Daddy's Little Girl
by kmj1989
Summary: When ten-year-old orphan Emily Ward pickpocketed a seemingly unsuspecting Phil Coulson, she had no idea her life would change forever. Twelve years later, she works with her adopted dad and pseudo-brother at SHIELD, trying to save the world that she refuses to let into her own little sphere of trust. Rated T for the fact that there will be violence.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I own nothing except for Emily.**

Chapter 1

"Hey, Clint, what's up?" I couldn't help but grin as I answered the phone. Talking to one of my favorite people always had that effect on me.

"I'm en route to New Mexico. What are you up to?" I could hear several others talking in the background, so I figured that Clint was on a quinjet, probably flying it.

"I'm just trying to figure out what to make for dinner. My options aren't looking very good so far," I replied, continuing in my search of the fridge. I pushed several unidentifiable objects aside, hoping for something a little fresher behind. Sadly, I had no such luck.

"Why don't you get some Mexican?" Clint's question sounded innocent enough, but I'd known him long enough to hear the mischievous undertones.

"What are you getting at, Clint?"

"Well, there may or may not be a quinjet planning on picking you up in an hour." I could practically hear the grin threatening to break through onto his face.

"Where would this hypothetical quinjet be planning on taking me? And for how long?"

"It would be taking you to New Mexico so you could spend your spring break with your two favorite guys," he quipped.

"I'm in med school, in case you forgot," I sighed. "I can't go gallivanting off to New Mexico, just because you and Dad are going to be there for a while."

"Sure you can. You're already top of your class, and it's not like you actually need to study. And you can bring your books with for when Agent Coulson and I are busy," he logically explained.

"It sounds like you and Dad already have prepared for any argument I could come up with," I replied sardonically.

"Of course. Who knows you better than the two of us?" I knew Clint had just shrugged, without needing to actually see him.

"Okay. I'll see you in an hour," I laughed. "And I had better not lose my valedictorian spot because of this!"

"You won't, Em. You're so much smarter than all the rest, anyway. See you at the Triskelion in an hour."

The next few minutes saw me packing a bag, before climbing into my SHIELD issued, non-descript Ford sedan. The rest of my allotted time was spent navigating D.C. traffic, since it was rush hour. Once I finally got on the Triskelion bridge, though, it only got worse, since Tony Stark's adventures had been just a few days before at his Stark Expo. I was a bit surprised that Dad and Clint weren't still cleaning that up, or the huge mess in Harlem, but apparently something else big was going down. Or they had the situation under control already. Dad was pretty good at that.

After parking in my designated spot (Thank you, Daddy!), I hurried to the front door, swiped my badge, and nodded to Frank before heading straight to the elevators. Normally, Level Five clearance didn't allow you to go where I was heading, but that was the beauty of being the daughter of Agent Phil Coulson. In order to visit him, or even Clint and Tasha, he had had to arrange it with Director Fury to allow me up to his office. Now, the elevator automatically directed me to Omega Team's D.C. offices without any input needed from me.

"Baby Coulson!" greeted me the moment I stepped out of the elevator.

"You know I don't like that, Robin Hood," I replied, curling my nose as Clint pulled me into a hug.

"And I don't like being called Robin Hood, but yet we still do it. Why is that?" he pondered faux-philosophically, walking me into his office.

"Because you both have the mentality of seven-year-olds," a rather familiar voice said to my right.

"Eh, probably right," Clint said, turning us to see this newcomer.

"Hey, Maria! How's Harlem?" I asked.

"I'm not even going to ask how you know about that," she said, shaking her head.

"A huge green thing fighting an even bigger spiky thing, destroying a whole neighborhood? It was on Youtube, silly. And I knew Fury would put his best woman on the job," I replied, giving her a wink.

"You've always been too smart for your own good," she sighed, before adding, "but now, you need to get on that quinjet. You need to be in New Mexico ASAP, and the Director wasn't excited about this little pit stop, even if it meant you could pick up more agents."

"You know he loves me. I mean, who doesn't?" I asked flippantly as we all headed toward the flight deck.

"I'm pretty sure Sitwell hasn't forgiven you for the whole enchilada fiasco," Maria said drily.

"And Stark hates you," Clint added.

"That's only because I can hack JARVIS," I shrugged. "And besides, Pepper loves me, so really, Tony does, too."

"You keep telling yourself that, kid," Clint laughed.

It was only after we got to the jet and I saw Clint stowing my bag that I realized he had taken it from me. "Stupid spy show-off," I muttered, playfully knocking his shoulder.

"I'm just training you to be observant," he protested with a grin.

"There is no need to train her," Maria butted in sternly. "Emily is going straight to Medical Division once she graduates. There will be no spy stuff for her."

"Yeah, but every now and then we need a Med-" Clint started, but Maria's glare cut him off.

"There will be no spy stuff for Emily, Barton," she repeated, in her "I am your superior officer and you will listen to me and not put my friend's daughter in harm's way" voice.

"No spy stuff for Emily. None whatsoever," Clint muttered meekly. "I'm gonna go fly the jet now."

While Clint was doing his pre-flight stuff, a few more agents boarded. One in particular saw me and grinned in a "I know I'm hot stuff" sort of way, but course-corrected when he saw Maria's glare. And then she gave herself a rare, self-satisfied smile, before looking back into the files open on her Starkpad. "And then everyone wonders why I have no friends," I muttered to her.

"Adams didn't want to be your 'friend', Emily. He has gone through an entire floor's worth of women, and apparently thought you would make a good next victim," Maria replied, not even bothering to look up.

"But really, between you, Dad, and Clint, and even Tasha, the chances of me meeting someone you guys don't immediately scare off are miniscule," I continued, trying to make my point.

"Anyone who is that easy to scare off isn't worth your time, Emily. And besides, you are so much smarter than the people your age. Just wait until you join SHIELD. It will be better then," she assured me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. And she still had yet to look up from her reading.

"I'd better get off. I'm not scheduled to go to New Mexico," she finally said, making a rare joke. "Coulson will meet you when you land. Have a good spring break," she added, before walking off the cargo door.

Since Clint was flying the plane, I decided to read for a bit, as I had an hour or so to burn. Pulling out my phone and muttering "I solemnly swear I am up to no good", I started to browse through my ebook selection when the agent next to me interrupted. "Are you Emily Coulson?"

"That is a very good possibility, just depends on who's asking," I replied, not looking up from my phone.

"Agent Coulson was my SO in training. He is _so_ good at what he does," she said in awe.

"Yeah, he is," I replied, pride in every syllable. "I'm actually going to spend some time with him, if that wasn't already obvious from the fact that I'm on this jet." I realized halfway through that sentence that what I was saying was a bit overkill, but somehow couldn't stop the words from coming.

"Yeah, I figured," she grinned. "And no, I'm not some creepy stalker of your dad's. I just happened to see a picture of the two of you in his office. It's really cool that you get to visit him while he's on a mission."

"It helps that Daddy is Fury's pet," a nasty voice said across from us.

Up to that point, I hadn't noticed Agent Collin Anderson sitting practically across from me. I groaned inwardly. I really didn't want to have to deal with him on my spring break, but apparently, I would have to. We can't always have what we want, I supposed.

"Remember what I told you, Anderson," I said sweetly. "Just because I didn't want to date you doesn't mean I'm a stuck up snob."

"No, it just means she's got good taste," the agent next to me piped up.

Anderson flushed and glared at everyone, since we all laughed at that. "I'm Agent Tobin, by the way. Marissa," she added with a slightly self-deprecating grin.

"I'm Emily Coulson," I replied. "But you already knew that."

"So , you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but why do you get to visit your dad if you're not an agent?" she asked, looking torn between wanting to know and not wanting to pry.

"Well, I'm kinda with SHIELD. I mean, they are paying for college in exchange for me going to work for them when I graduate. And Fury kinda had to give me clearance when I hacked my dad's computer at the age of fourteen," I answered, a bit embarrassed, but still slightly proud.

"So you're the kid we all got warned about!" Marissa exclaimed.

"Excuse me?" I had no idea what she was talking about. After all, I wasn't a kid anymore.

"In training, we were all warned to keep any and all SHIELD electronics away from any kids, because an agent's kid had hacked into the secure server and gave everyone Harry Potter wallpaper," she laughed.

"Yeah, those were my rebellious days. That's also how I found out that Clint was an agent , as well. Before that, I just thought he was a friend of my dad's."

Marissa and I had a lovely chat for the rest of the flight, which was something a bit surprising to me as I rarely made friends. Before I knew it, Clint's voice came over the intercom, mirth apparent for everyone to hear.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are beginning our final descent into Puente Antiguo. Currently, the weather is clear and a bit chilly. The local time is now four-forty-three, and thank you for flying SHIELD airlines."

"He's an idiot," Anderson mumbled as we all buckled up.

"Yeah, but he's my idiot," I replied, glaring at him.

"I thought he and Agent Romanoff were together," Marissa whispered to me.

I couldn't help it. I laughed out loud. "I just meant that Anderson should keep his stupid mouth shut. Clint is like a brother to me. And sadly, no, he and Natasha are not together. At least, not yet."

Once we landed, Clint came back to us to grab his bag, and mine, since I couldn't reach it. "I got it, Short Stack," he said, when I tried to take it from me.

"Fine, but you promised me Mexican food," I reminded. "And now I'm even more hungry, since it's two hours after I had planned on eating."

"We've already sent out for something," he assured. "It should be here waiting for us."

"Have I told you today how much I love you?" I said, kissing up to him, just a bit.

"No, actually, you haven't. Now would be a good time for a reminder," he said, deadpanning.

"Clint, I love you. You are the best friend/brother in the entire universe," I said. I didn't realize then that our universe had just gotten a whole lot bigger.

**AN: Just a little editing to make things canon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I still own nothing, except Emily. Sigh.**

Chapter 2

Dad was waiting for us as we got off the plane. With two containers of take out Mexican food in his hands. He knew us so well. "Two steak chimichangas, three steak tacos, and a burrito, enchilada style for Barton, and a chicken enchilada for Emily, with churros for dessert," he said, handing us the correct boxes.

"You are seriously the best dad ever," I moaned, inhaling the delectable scent coming from my box. "Ever," I reaffirmed.

"I know," he deadpanned, but I saw the pleased twinkle in his eyes. "I want all incoming agents on the perimeter, except Tobin. You go on into command. Jorgins specifically asked for you," he added, raising his voice so everyone could hear him. Then, back to me and Clint, "Let's get inside. It's going to rain."

The moment we stepped inside the small trailer that would serve as our quarters, the heavens opened up. "Sometimes, I think you have superpowers," I teased my dad.

"Sometimes, your dad scares me," Clint whispered to me.

"I can hear you, Barton," Dad said, not breaking his stride in the slightest on his way to the kitchen area.

Clint looked at me with a "See what I mean?" expression on his face, before saying out loud, "I was just joking, Sir."

"Of course you were," was Dad's sarcastic reply. "Now, as soon as you are done eating, I want you up on that crane, keeping an eye on the center of the compound."

Dad was talking about the plastic-sheeting structure a few yards away that looked like a kids' play place in a fast food restaurant, only adult-sized. "What is in the center, if it's not classified?" I asked, curious to know why we were even in Middle of Nowhere, New Mexico.

"It's a hammer," Dad replied calmly, ignoring the gobsmacked looks on mine and Clint's faces, or more probably, enjoying them.

"Uhummer?" Clint said, mouth still full of chimichanga.

"A hammer?" I repeated clearly. "We came all the way here for a hammer?"

"It's not just some little hammer you could buy at The Home Depot," Dad clarified. "It's a war hammer. And it fell from space."

"It did what?" Clint and I exclaimed together.

"That's right. There's evidence that it came from space. Atmospheric anomalies point toward it coming through some kind of wormhole. And now they are messing with our equipment," he continued, looking as unflappable as ever.

"This has got to be the weirdest thing I've ever heard, and sadly, I know you are being completely serious," I said, shaking my head.

"And now you want me to watch it? Is anyone going to take it?" Clint asked, already having his head wrapped around the whole space hammer thing.

"From what we've been able to see, no one can. When we got here earlier, locals were trying to pull it out of the crater it made. But no one was able to. One guy even ripped the bed of his truck off trying to pull it out that way. But we need someone to keep an eye on it while we study it."

"Can do," was Clint's response, before inhaling the last bit of his food.

"Agent Coulson, an unknown has breached the perimeter," a voice came crackling through the walkie on Dad's belt.

Clint grabbed his bow and was out the door before I could even take in another breath. Dad was right behind him, only pausing to tell me to stay put. My first instinct was to ignore it and follow him anyway, but I had matured enough to recognize an order. So, I simply finished off my enchiladas, waiting for Dad or Clint to come back. When they didn't come back in half an hour, I pulled my bag toward me and started on my reading for my classes. I was nearly done with my second chapter and on my last churro when Clint popped back in.

"You're needed in Medical," Clint said, not even bothering with a greeting.

"What happened?" I asked. I hadn't been overly worried before, but if they were suddenly needing my help, then something big must have gone down.

"I'll fill you in on the way," Clint said. "Come on,"

I quickly pulled my shoes back on, then Clint practically dragged me out of the trailer and across the way to the compound. Once we made it to the nearest entrance, he pulled the plastic aside for me, followed me in, then took the lead again. "So what happened?" I repeated my earlier question, feeling rather anxious.

"A guy broke in and took out a dozen of our agents. We need your help taking care of injuries." Clint was short, terse, a sure sign he was still in Hawkeye mode.

"One guy took out a dozen highly trained SHIELD agents? How?" I was stunned. Our agents were some of the best in the world.

"That's what we would like to figure out."

"Didn't any Medical come with?" I suddenly wondered out loud.

Clint sniggered, breaking out of his spy persona. "Yeah, we've got three, but they ordered take out sushi. In the middle of the desert. So they are out for the count, as well. Hence, we need you."

"Wow. I'm not sure I want to work with such idiots in the future," I muttered.

"That's why we need you in Medical Division," Dad's voice came from around the corner. Once we got there, I saw him standing amidst several agents on the ground, holding various body parts in pain. "We need someone who has common sense."

With the help of several other uninjured agents, we got everyone over to the Med trailer. We didn't even have enough cots for everyone, so the last ones brought in had to sit on the floor. And the very last one balked at seeing me preparing to examine someone.

"She can't be in here, Sir! She's not a doctor, or even part of SHIELD!" Agent Anderson protested.

"Miss Coulson is in her last semester of medical school and the closest thing we have to any medical personnel at the moment. If you have a problem with her examining you and treating your injuries, then you are free to walk into town to the hospital," Dad said calmly, but everyone heard the steel undertone. Then, he turned to Clint. "I need you to stay here and give Emily a hand. And if anyone has a problem, you take care of it." By the glint in Dad's eye, I knew he meant take care of it with a bit of force, if necessary.

"I love my dad," I sighed as I turned back to my first patient.

The next hour or so passed in a blur of sprains, breaks, and dislocations. Sadly, as I was five-feet-nothing tall, or so I felt next to Clint, and weighed one hundred pounds on a good day, I had to leave the dislocated everythings to Clint, since he was much bigger than me. And a lot less gentle. Those poor agents. Some of them passed out afterwards. Anderson was knocked out beforehand.

"I could have handled him, Clint," I chastised lightly as I cleaned the shallow cut on Anderson's cheek.

"He had a problem. I took care of it. Just following orders." Cint's grin contradicted his words just a bit. I knew that he had done it for me, always looking out for his "little sister".

After finishing up Anderson's wounds, I went to the bathroom door, from where we'd been hearing severe sounds of distress the entire time I'd been working on agents. I knocked softly, and eventually the door opened a crack. "Yeah?" a thirty-something guy croaked at me.

"I just wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help you guys," I replied, trying to keep back the smile threatening to break free.

"No, we just have to get it all out," he said, continuing to croak.

"Okay, well, I'll have some Gatorades sent back here for you. And there are three saline drip I.V. bags on the counter if you need it. Don't let yourselves become dehydrated," I warned.

"Thanks, will do," was all he managed to get out before suddenly dashing away.

"And that's my cue to leave," I said, hurrying away, as well, but in the opposite direction.

As Clint and I headed back to our trailer, I suddenly had a thought. "Clint, what happened to the guy who did this? I need to make sure he's okay, too!"

"The guy is a friggin' tank. I'm sure he's fine," Clint rolled his eyes.

"But he might be hurt. I have to help him. I have an obligation to help him," I said, stubbornly stopping and crossing my arms in annoyance.

"The guy took out a dozen trained agents. Twelve, Em. I am not letting you anywhere near him. And your dad would kill me if I let you," he argued.

"He's in a cell, I assume?" I asked, then forged on without waiting for his answer. "Then I can stay outside it and do a visual inspection. I have to do something, Clint. What if he's hurt?"

"I hate when you get like this," Clint sighed, but guided me back toward the compound anyway.

"You know you love me," I singsonged.

"You are going to be the death of me. Probably at the hands of your father," he grumbled. "But you will stay outside the cell, and only do a visual inspection. You will not touch him, or come anywhere near him. Understood?"

"Of course, Clint. I don't really want to add to the list of injuries, you know."

"Good, 'cause he would snap you like a twig." I knew Clint's grumblings were really his worries about me, so they didn't bother me. And besides, I was used to it by now.

Clint led me to the cell area, where a familiar-looking agent was sitting, doing guard duty. "Hey, Grant," I called, then walked toward to cell itself. And inside was seriously the biggest human I had ever seen. He had to be around six and a half feet tall, and probably a good three hundred pounds of pure muscle. Just looking at him convinced me that Clint had been right; this guy could snap me in half without blinking. But at that moment, he looked broken, sad, lost.

"Emily, you can't go in the cell! No one can. Sorry, your, uh, your dad's orders," Grant said, a bit apologetically, but still firm in following his orders.

"She's not going in, Ward. She's doing a visual inspection." Clint's voice was full of annoyance that made me grin briefly.

Only briefly. I had a patient to look after. I looked at the huge man, trying to see any signs of injuries. Oddly enough, after a few minutes of looking over him, I couldn't see anything wrong. Of course, he was covered in mud, and hunching over almost in half, but what I could see of him seemed perfectly healthy. He didn't even seem to have a bruise.

Five minutes later, I turned back to the two agents having a slight stare down behind me. "I can't see anything wrong with him, but I can't be positive. I haven't seen him move, so I can't know for sure, but I think he's fine," I told them.

"Good, then we can go now," Clint said, grabbing my arm and practically dragging me out of the room.

"Bye, Grant!" I called back. Then to Clint, I teased, "The only reason you don't like Grant is because since he joined SHIELD, all the girls are swooning over him instead of you."

"Yes, that is exactly why I don't like Ward." Sarcasm didn't just ooze from his words, it flowed.

"Naw, it's really because he tried to hit on Tasha," I jabbed, as every good little sister should.

His jaw clenched infinitesimally. "Anyone who wants to flirt with Nat does so at their own peril. I don't have anything against anyone who tries, other than their own stupidity," he lied. "And Ward has plenty of that."

I remembered the first couple of weeks that Grant had been at SHIELD. It had been just after the end of a semester, so I was spending time with Dad in New York. Grant was funny and good looking, so of course everyone liked him. But then he had seen Natasha Romanoff, and it was like, outside of doing his job, nothing mattered but her. She had flirted back a little at first, but when he was only encouraged, she went straight to ignoring him. After two weeks of ignoring him, and with no sign that he was backing off at all, she snapped. The infamous Black Widow had him against a wall, poised to break his arm, when Dad intervened. Natasha stormed into her office, slamming the door behind her, while Dad informed Grant that if he continued to pursue her, if he didn't end up dead at her hand, then he would find himself stationed in a very cold, very remote place, indefinitely.

After that, Grant had lost a bit of his conceit, but none of his flirt. He was just careful to avoid Tasha anytime they might cross paths. But Clint had never forgiven him. And probably never would.

"You know, the only reason why Ward leaves you alone is because of your dad," Clint said, breaking into my thoughts. "He doesn't want to end up dead, or in outer Mongolia for the rest of his life."

"It's too bad," I mused, knowing it would drive Clint crazy. "Grant is pretty cute."

"You are not allowed to even look at him like that." I had momentarily forgotten Clint's third mode: Overly Protective Big Brother. And boy, was it coming out to play with a vengeance.

"I'm kidding, Clint. I don't like Grant. He's just a friend, or as much as I have friends outside of you and Tasha. But you, sir, are not allowed to tell me who I can date," I said sternly.

"I sure as hell can scare them off," he mumbled.

"And this is why I never have more than three dates," I sighed.

**AN: Reviews would be most appreciated! Tell what you like, or what I could work on. Everything helps!**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I still own nothing but Emily.**

Chapter 3

Clint and I headed back to our little trailer to wait for our further orders. We had just started a game of "Would You Rather" when Dad came back. "What's the deal with Conan?" I asked as soon as he shut the door.

"Conan?" he asked, slightly amused.

"Well, he happens to be the largest man I've ever seen, so Conan seemed to fit, like Conan the Barbarian," I defended.

"You saw him?" Dad's eyebrows raised so high, they almost met his receding hairline as he turned to look at Clint.

"She insisted on seeing him to see if he needed medical attention. She stayed outside the cell the entire time, Sir," Clint reported.

Dad sighed. "One day, your good heart will get you in trouble, young lady."

"Like when you recruited Clint instead of taking him out? Or defending Clint for doing the same with Tasha?" I questioned.

Clint swallowed a snort, fighting to keep his face neutral. Dad sighed again. "Yes, just like that. At least I've managed to teach you something."

"I couldn't ask for a better teacher. Or Dad," I grinned, kissing his cheek again. "Now, what's happening with Conan?"

"An astrophysicist came claiming Conan was one of his team, so we let him go. It was a fake ID, I sent some agents to follow them. They went to a bar in town, and our agents are dressed like agents. We need someone on the inside, to see what they're talking about. I hope you brought some civvies, Barton, 'cause you're up."

"You know Clint is too attractive to go to a bar on his own, Dad. He would stand out. Or get mauled by horny, drunk women. Let me go with, and we can act like we're together, no suspicions raised," I suggested.

"No. You are not going into some bar where the largest man in the world is getting drunk," Dad said, dismissing the idea entirely.

"She's got a good point, Sir. If we were together, I'd be able to survey the area better. Alone, I'd have to pull off the surly 'I have something on my mind' sort of drinker, and that doesn't let you keep an eye on things as well," Clint pointed out.

"If anything happens to her, and I do mean anything, including a drunk hitting on her, I am holding you personally responsible, Barton. You will not see the outside world for weeks from under the mountain of paperwork I will bury you with," Dad threatened.

"So I can go?" I asked, trying (and failing) to contain my excitement on going out on a relatively safe mission.

"Yes," Dad said wearily. "I hope you packed something appropriate."

"Of course I did. Did you forget who taught me how to pack a go bag?" I asked, grabbing my bag and heading to the bathroom.

"You are not allowed to wear something Agent Romanoff would consider appropriate!" he hollered after me.

Five minutes later, I came out, completely ready. I'd changed into some skinny jeans and knee-high boots, with a flowy, V-necked top. "How did you manage to change your look so completely in five minutes?" Clint asked in awe.

"Tasha taught me well," I grinned. "If you don't have time to do your makeup completely, dramatic eyeliner and red lipstick will make it look like you spent hours getting ready. And my hair was already curly, I just had to let it down."

"At least you're not wearing anything too revealing," Dad said, eyeing my outfit critically.

"I'm glad you approve, Daddy," I said sarcastically. "I'm not going out clubbing in New York. It's a bar in Small Town, New Mexico. If I wore anything more revealing, I'd probably give someone a heart attack."

Clint coughed something that sounded suspiciously like "Your father," but I grabbed his arm before Dad could react. "We'll be back!" I told him, then guided Clint to the door.

As we walked to the junky-looking truck close by, I actually looked at Clint. "Wow, you do look good in civvies," I flattered. "No wonder Tasha likes you."

"Natasha doesn't like me," Clint muttered, opening the door for me.

"Oh, honey, if you only knew," I told him, patting his face patronizingly. Then I laughed when he scowled and slammed the door after me.

Deciding that I'd pushed Clint's buttons enough that day, I changed topics. "So, what are we going for here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's our plan of action? Are we going to be the lovey dovey type couple who apparently can't take their eyes off each other, or are we going to play the pissed off couple who can't stand each other but can't be without the other? I need to know before we get there."

"We'll see when we get there," Clint said in amusement, all traces of annoyance gone.

"Fine. But don't blame me if I blow it," I joked.

"Oh, you better believe I'll blame you. Not that your dad would ever believe me," he teased back.

"That's because I'm the perfect daughter," I replied. "He didn't have to deal with me as a screaming baby, so it all just went uphill from the time we met."

"Yes, because testing out your hacking skills on your dad's computer was a breeze to deal with."

"It ended well," I defended. "It gave Dad the excuse he needed to be able to tell me about SHIELD."

"And almost got him demoted. If it had been anybody else, he would have gotten sacked," Clint told me.

"But it ended well," I repeated stubbornly. "And it's the reason why SHIELD kids are now given self-defence courses. But I'm still the only one who got trained by Hawkeye and the Black Widow, right?"

"Of course, kid. We couldn't handle anyone else after you," he mocked.

"I wasn't that bad!" I squealed defensively.

"Naw, you were actually better than we thought you would be."

"That's what happens when you grow up on the streets," I mumbled.

"Hey, I know. Em, if anybody knows what you went through, it's Nat and me. We know," he said softly, taking my hand in his.

"I know. I just- Thanks, Clint."

"That's what I'm here for."

The rest of the short trip went in silence. As Clint pulled into the parking lot of the bar, I was a bit shocked. "It's nicer than I was anticipating."

"Apparently, the citizens of Puente Antiguo like their beer," Clint replied.

"Apparently."

As we walked in, it seemed like every eye was on us. I could hear Tasha's advice in my mind, saying, "If you can't blend in, stand out." So, with an inward grin, I gripped Clint's hand and dragged him straight to the bar, not far from where Conan was sitting with an older gentleman.

"Can I get a Coke and rum, please? And go easy on the rum, I wanna remember everything about tonight," I told the bartender, leaning over a bit so he would have a good angle down my shirt. "It's gonna be good."

"You got it, Sweetheart, just as soon as I see some ID," he grinned at me.

I fished my ID out of my pocket while Clint ordered a beer. "Here you are, Sweetheart. Have a good time," the bartender told me with a wink, handing me my drink and ID.

Clint and I turned toward a small table a few feet away. That's when I noticed something funny with Clint. "Are you blushing?" I asked incredulously. And even though he vehemently denied it, I knew what I had seen. "You are! I can't believe you are blushing! I have to tell Tasha!" I pulled my phone out to text her, bust sadly, Clint pulled it out of my grasp before I could blink.

"You are an a date with me, Emily. You are not going to be texting someone else all night long," he said, loudly enough for others around us to hear. Apparently, he had gotten my hint earlier, and we were going for the public scene to catch everyone's attention.

"Fine," I pouted, before taking a big swallow of my drink. "I wanna play pool."

"I don't want to play pool. I just want to sit, have a few drinks, and talk with you. What's wrong with that?"

"It's so boring! I'm gonna go play pool," I announced, standing up and getting ready to flounce away. Then I stopped. "I don't have any money. I need some cash to play pool."

"Then I guess you're not going to play pool, now are you?" Clint's voice was nasty, but I could tell he was enjoying it as much as I was.

"I'll pay for you, Sugar," a burly guy announced. "You and me, we'll play."

"I guess I will play pool, after all," I smirked, before grabbing my drink and heading over to the guy. "I think I like the looks of this table. What do you say?" I asked, pointing to the table closest to Clint and Conan.

"Whatever you say," he said, with a slightly dazed look on his face. I guessed that he didn't get much female attention.

After a few strokes, and pulling my shots, I suddenly straightened up. "It's so hot in here," I announced, before pulling my top up and over my head. I caught Clint's look of astonishment, before he realized that I was still wearing a cami underneath.

Several games later, all of which I had lost spectacularly on purpose, I announced I needed another drink. The crowd that had gathered around me all offered to get it for me, but I declined. "I'm a big girl. I can get my own drinks," I said, tossing a wink and my long, red hair over my shoulder at them.

Walking over to the bartender, I flirted with him, as well. "Can I just get a Coke this time? When all this is over, we're gonna have some… making up to do, and I wanna enjoy every minute of it," I said, discretely gesturing to Clint.

"Of course, honey. Do you want me to keep 'em comin'?"

"That would be brilliant," I purred, pouring every ounce of flirtation Tasha had taught me in my words.

"Comin' right up," he agreed, making my drink behind the counter.

Once it was in my hand, I turned and "stumbled" into Conan. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry!" I wailed, brushing at his sleeve that was now drenched in Coke. He immediately grasped my waist, helping me upright. "Here, let me clean it up!" I offered, grabbing some napkins and dabbing at the mess I'd made.

"It is of no consequence," he said graciously, brushing me off and taking a few napkins himself.

"No, I made a mess. Let me help," I pleaded, flirting with him, as well.

"I am quite alright. Do not concern yourself further," he told me, before going back to talk to his very drunk friend.

"Here's another one, Sweetheart, on the house," the bartender told me, pushing another drink at me.

"Oh, thanks! You're so sweet!" I said, still pouring on the flirt.

A few more games of pool later saw Clint coming up behind me. "You do it like this," he said, wrapping his arms around me and "showing" me how to play pool. With his help, I won, much to my opponent's displeasure.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I was being a jerk. Forgive me," Clint pleaded, continuing our little charade.

"You're right. You were a jerk," I said, not willing to appear to give in too soon.

"I know. I'm sorry," he said, before kissing my neck slowly. "So sorry," he mumbled against my skin.

Normally, a guy holding me like that would probably have sent me swooning, but this was Clint. The guy I loved like a brother, and had never had any inklings of romantic feelings for. And besides, Natasha would kill me if she thought I did.

But I was playing a part, so I let myself melt in his arms just a bit. "You can't keep doing this, baby. You know I like to have fun," I pouted some more, but allowed my arms to go around his neck.

"I know. I just get so jealous seeing you have fun with other guys," he told me, pulling me closer.

"Jealousy looks good on you, though," I smirked.

"You like that, huh?" And before I had the chance to respond, he kissed me.

We kissed for a moment, making sure it looked good for the crowd, before I pulled back. "Thanks for the games, boys. It was fun!" Then I grabbed my shirt and Clint's hand, and we left.

Once we were in the truck and back on the road, I allowed myself to gag. "Never kiss me again," I choked out.

"Well, it wasn't like I enjoyed it, either!" Clint whined. "I was kissing my little sister! I need some gum. Or about two gallons of Listerene."

We both allowed ourselves to be grossed out for a moment, then I said, "Well, at least I found out something interesting."

"What's that?" he asked.

"Conan is interested in someone else," I smirked.

"What? How do you know that?"

"'Cause he didn't even look twice at me, even when I threw myself on him. And I'm not being conceited, either. I'm no hot stuff, but Tasha's taught me enough to make guys eat out of my hands when I want them to. I mean, every other guy in there was staring at me, but he didn't even blink when my boobs were basically in his face. Ergo, he is interested in someone else."

"You are good," he breathed in awe. "But don't ever tell your Dad about the whole 'boobs in his face, guys staring at you' thing. I wouldn't survive the fallout."

"Of course not. What Dad doesn't know won't hurt him. Or you, in this case," I laughed, pulling my shirt back over my head.

"Tasha has taught you a little too well, I think. Are you sure you don't want to be an agent?"

"Even if I did, Dad would never allow it. But going out every now and then is fun. But I never want to be in those life and death situations that you and Tasha find yourselves in way too frequently."

"You'd be really good at it," Clint pushed.

"You hear that? It's the siren call of Medical Division calling my name," I replied.

"Boring," he muttered.

"Safe," I countered.

"Still boring."

**AN: Thanks for reading, and please leave a review to let me know how I'm doing.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: If you recognize it, it isn't mine. Though I do hope you've enjoyed the cameos from various MCU canon characters! **

Chapter 4

Back at the compound, we had to report what we'd learned to Dad. Mostly Clint reported while I threw in a few things I'd observed. And Clint even managed to make it sound like he'd overheard Conan talking about a woman he had feelings for. We wisely avoided the fact that I'd pretended to be drunk and flirted with a bunch of random drunk guys. Clint and I had known that I'd never been in any danger, but Dad definitely wouldn't have seen it that way.

"Good job. We still don't know who this man is, but we did learn a bit tonight. I'm wondering if Dr. Foster is the woman he's interested in, since she helped him break in here. We'll give them a visit in the morning. For now, I think it would be a good idea for us all to get some sleep. I have a feeling that tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

As the three of us walked back to the trailer, I had a thought. "So Dad, how was dealing with Tony?" I asked with a grin.

"That man could make a nun swear," Dad growled. "Thankfully, Agent Romanoff no longer needs to act as his assistant, sparing me further annoyed rants in Russian."

"Will she be coming here?" I asked, excited at the chance to see her for the first time in a while. She'd been undercover for months now as Tony Stark's personal assistant, something that she hated.

"No, she's not needed here. She's getting some much deserved R&amp;R, but she'll be back in D.C. when we get back. Or at least, when you get back. I'm not sure when Barton and I will be able to leave," Dad replied.

"Oh, good! It's been forever since we've had a girls' night."

"I think I'd better come, too, just to make sure we don't have a repeat of the last girls' night you two had," Clint muttered.

"Only if we can put you in heels and lipstick," I sang. "And besides, last time wasn't that bad."

"Natasha beat the crap out of three guys and broke five tables and a window," Clint said in disbelief.

"Well, that's 'cause they didn't know when to take a hint. We'd both said no, but they just kept coming," I defended my friend. "We were simply having a friendly game of pool between the two of us, and they couldn't comprehend that two women might not need , or want, some male company."

"I occasionally regret introducing you to Barton and Romanoff," Dad sighed. "You never got into this kind of trouble before then."

"I hacked your computer at the age of fourteen, Dad," I reminded. "I hadn't met Tasha yet, and I only sort of knew Clint."

"Sadly, you're right. But you are not getting into any trouble for the rest of this trip, understand?"

"Yes, Sir," I quipped, pulling off a very bad mock salute.

Dad sighed again. "What am I going to do with you?" he asked, pulling open the door to our trailer.

"Love me," I replied simply, stopping to kiss his cheek on my way in.

…

I wasn't even remotely surprised that Dad and Clint were gone when I woke up the next morning. They had both insisted that I take the little bedroom, so that I could keep sleeping when they had to leave at an obscenely early hour. One more reason to join Medical, I thought to myself as I stretched cat-like in my bed.

Once I actually managed to drag myself out of my bed, I found a note for me on the counter in the kitchen. In it, Dad told me there was some sort of disturbance in town regarding Conan, and that he expected me to stay at the compound. Groaning at the promise of boredom, I found some Poptarts in a cupboard and curled up with my books for more studying.

After two hours of studying, I could take no more, so I finally got dressed, then headed outside. The clouds from the day before were mostly gone, which was nice, since I hated rain. I wandered over to the Med trailer to check on the poor guys left in there.

I made sure they were all still alive, and took care of the few light injuries that came in while I was there. After rearranging the supplies for the fourth time, I decided that I really didn't need to be in the Med trailer anymore. I headed outside and let my feet take me wherever they wanted.

I eventually found myself in the center of the compound, staring at the strange hammer sticking out of a crater in the ground. Perching against the railing, and feeling a bit like Clint for doing so, I watched as several scientists performed tests on it. They didn't seem to understand any of their readings, though. Then, Marissa, who was manning a computer, yelled out, "Sir, it's happening again! The anomalies!"

There was no way I could have predicted what came next. Before anyone could really even react, the hammer started vibrating, like it was trying to wiggle itself free from the ground. And then it did. Shooting high above our heads, it zipped past us and out of our sight faster than one of Clint's arrows.

"What just happened?" I asked slowly, not really believing what my eyes had shown me.

"I have no idea," Marissa answered, just as slowly.

The scientists around me muttered confusedly for several moments, but no one had a reasonable explanation. And then, someone realized that all the equipment was suddenly fine. Just like that. Apparently the hammer was causing all the interference. 'Cause that's not weird at all.

Jorgins, the head Science agent, tried to call Dad to let him know what was going on, but Dad didn't answer. When it became apparent that there was literally nothing else to do, he ordered everyone to start packing up. Not wanting to be caught in that, I quickly left to go back to the trailer and my books reluctantly. As fascinating as I found the field of medicine, textbooks were just too dry. And it didn't help that I had already read them all at least twice.

I managed to distract myself for a few minutes once I got back to the trailer, since my phone now had reception and I had several waiting messages from Tasha, all telling me to get my butt back to D.C. so we could party. She had her reputation to maintain, but I knew that by party she meant going to a quiet bar for some pool, or even staying in and watching some BBC. The last one even said, "You had better not have watched MI5 without me, kotenok!" I grinned at her nickname for me. It had taken me a few hours to figure out how to spell it to use Google translate, but I eventually realized she was calling me kitten. When I asked her why, she shrugged and said, "You're like a kitten. You growl and act fierce whenever someone new comes around, but really, you just want your belly rubbed. And you're tiny."

"I haven't, promise, starshaya sestra," I replied, calling her my big sister. Even though she didn't respond after that, I knew it pleased her. After the life she'd led before SHIELD, having someone care about her enough to call her sister meant the world. Dad had often said it was frightening how much Tasha and I were alike. We didn't let people in easily, but when we did, it was for life. He then usually went on to say that he preferred, by far, my method of pretending to be friendly with everyone, rather than Tasha's of scaring everyone away.

An hour of trying to force my brain to comprehend what I was reading later, I happened to look up and see Dad and Clint driving back to the compound. Finally, someone to talk to! I snapped my book closed, then hurried out to greet them. After one good look at both of them, I knew something bad had happened.

"What happened?" I asked the two exhausted men.

"Apparently, Conan is a Norse god," Dad replied simply.

"Say what?" There was no way I comprehended that sentence correctly, because I could have sworn Dad had said Conan was a mythological god. Which was silly, because mythological translated to fictional, and believe me, Conan was not fictional. I'd felt those muscles when I had fallen on him the night before.

"Conan is actually Thor, the Norse god of thunder." Dad shook his head, like he couldn't believe it, either.

"Thor, like, has a day of the week named after him, Thor?" I asked skeptically.

"Exactly like that. The hammer was his, but he had lost his power and was sent here because of something stupid he did in Asgard, his home planet-dimension-thing, and then some friends of his came to take him back, then his brother sent some scary automaton to kill them all. Thor regained his powers when he offered his life to save everyone else, and his hammer came flying to him, and he smashed the sh- crap out the automaton. Then, he and his friends went flying up into the sky. It was the weirdest thing I have ever seen in my life," Clint explained, still looking a bit mystified by it all.

"Well, that explains the hammer suddenly flying out of here. It was the scariest thing I've ever seen," I told them.

"That's because you didn't see the automaton," Clint muttered. "I almost had to change my pants after."

"There's nothing here for us anymore," Dad said. "It's time we got packed up and went back home."

"So you'll come back to D.C. with me?" I asked excitedly.

"We'll see," was Dad's reply. He was trying to be mysterious, but he totally failed. And we all knew it. He wanted to spend time with me as much as I wanted him to.

Two hours later saw us back on the quinjet, heading back home. It was amazing at how fast those SHIELD agents worked. I looked out the cargo door as Clint took off, and it was like we'd never even been there.

…

I had to wait for Dad and Clint to do paperwork once we landed, but since my phone was working again, and I had done all my reading for classes, I treated myself to reading a novel. I was halfway through Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone when they were finally done.

"Haven't you read that about twenty times?" Clint asked, after he had snagged my phone to see what I was reading.

"Yes, but not the British version. It's interesting to see the differences," I defended, punching his arm to get my phone back.

"You are such a nerd," he teased.

"Rather a nerd than an uncultured swine like yourself," I retorted, sticking my tongue at him.

Dad just sighed as Clint and I playfully bickered the whole way to the parking lot. I was pretty sure he would have tried to deny knowing us, if he thought he could get away with it. Even if they didn't know me, everyone knew that Dad was Clint's handler. And everyone knew Clint at SHIELD.

After deciding on Chinese, we got take out, making sure to get Szechuan Chicken for Tasha. No one had to say anything, we all just knew her well enough to know that she would be at my apartment when we got there.

"Hey, Tasha," I said as I opened my front door.

"How did you know I'd be here?" she demanded, coming out of my bedroom. "I left no trace, and you didn't see me, so how did you know I'd be here?"

"You hate SHIELD barracks," Dad, Clint, and I said together.

"No privacy," I added.

"Anyone can get into your stuff," Clint piped up.

"As if anyone would be that stupid," Dad finished.

"I've become predictable." The look on Natasha's face was disgust, disappointment in herself. I had to help her.

"Only to those who love you. I know for a fact that other agents just assume they miss you coming and going from the barracks. Here's your chicken," I said, handing her the container with her food.

"Really?" I'd never seen Tasha looking so hopeful, so vulnerable. Of course, for Natasha Romanoff, the vulnerability was a tiny fraction of what I would expect in any other person.

"Yeah, really. That's your Szechuan Chicken," Clint deadpanned.

"Durak," she muttered, glaring at him. But we could all see that it wasn't the glare she would give anyone else. This one was all for show, not full of ice.

"Yes, the other agents think you stay at the barracks. It helps that you leave a bag there whenever you stay somewhere else," Dad assured her.

The relief on her face was visible for the three of us, the people she was closest to in the world. I quickly changed the subject, since none of us were very good at talking about our feelings, and because I had suddenly remembered something I had to tell Tasha. "You'll never guess what happened last night."

"An alien hammer fell from space," she retorted.

"Besides that. And anyway, that was two nights ago. But last night was great," I told her, grinning evilly. Clint caught on, but as he was across the room from me, he didn't make it in time to stop me from saying, "Clint actually blushed!"

"I did not! I was mildly sunburned!" he defended.

"Then where did it go between then and now?" Dad asked sardonically.

"And you have never been sunburned in your life!" I added.

"Just because I'm not pasty and turn into a lobster at the first sight of sun doesn't mean I don't sunburn," Clint pouted.

"I'm not pasty; I am porcelain, and I rock it," I said sassily.

Laughing, Natasha asked, "What made him blush?"

This made Clint and me blush, though mine was a bit more noticeable. "Well, I may have implied that he is really good in bed," I mumbled, acutely aware of the fact that my dad was sitting next to me, and the assassin with a horrible temper and equally horrible crush on Clint was on the other side of him.

"What?!" Dad yelled, looking at Clint. Tasha just glared daggers at me.

"We've never slept together!" I defended. "Ew! He's like my brother! Our cover was being a couple. That's it! Bleh!"

"Yeah, the idea of sleeping with Emily gives me disturbed shudders," Clint added, shuddering overdramatically to prove his point.

"And even if Clint weren't like my brother, he's ten years older than me. If I actually took the time to be interested in someone, that someone would be a little closer to my own age," I continued.

That mollified the others somewhat, even though Dad kept sending glares at Clint. The rest of the evening was spent eating Chinese food, laughing at our fortunes, and making fun of MI5. The BBC show, not the organization. Even I could blatantly see things they were doing wrong, while Tasha just kept laughing. And yet, for all we made fun of it, we were still absorbed in it. It was like we couldn't get enough.

I decided I'd had enough around eleven. "I'm going to bed," I yawned at them. "Dad, your stuff is still in the spare bedroom. Clint, blankets and pillows are where you left them last time."

"Where is Nat sleeping?" Clint asked, looking concerned.

"In my bed. It's a king, so it's not like we even touch," I lied, knowing that Tasha was, in fact, a cuddler in her sleep. Every time we'd shared a bed, since I'd met her, I would wake up to her right next to me in the middle of the night. But every morning, she would be back on her side of the bed. I wasn't even sure if she knew about it, or if it was some subconscious need to have human contact. Either way, I wasn't about to tell her.

"You're sharing a bed?" Clint asked, his voice an octave or two higher than normal.

"Perv," I said, throwing a pillow in his face. Of course, Clint being Clint, he snagged it and threw it back at me before I could react. "We're practically sisters. And besides, neither of us swing that way."

"Though I could, for you, Emily," she said with a wink. Then, we both exploded in laughter at the dumbstruck, and slightly devastated look on his face.

"It's basically a slumber party, just with the two of us. Girls do it all the time," I continued, once I could actually speak again.

"Girls are weird!" Clint exclaimed.

"And they don't get any more normal, no matter how old you get," Dad assured him.

"Oh, goodie," Clint muttered, which made everyone else laugh.

**AN: Holy crap. 251 hits in slightly more than 24 hours. I am overwhelmed. But thank you all for reading, and those of you who have reviewed/favorited/followed get an extra big thank you! I won't be able to update so much like I did yesterday, but I will do my best. And reviews do encourage that ;) (Yes, that was shameless bribery, in case you were wondering!)**

**P.S. Durak means fool/idiot in Russian. At least according to Google.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: If you recognize it, I don't own it. But hopefully you'll like this chapter's canon cameo!**

Chapter 5

Two months later:

"Dr. Emily Rose Coulson!"

As I received my degree, I didn't get a lot of applause, like some of the others had. I heard a few of my classmates, and one of my teachers, but Clint and Tasha made more noise than anybody. Clint did his obnoxious bird-whistle thing, that probably burst some eardrums around him, and Tasha kept yelling "That's my girl!" in Russian. Dad didn't yell or whistle, but I knew he was there, and he was proud of me, and that's all I needed.

"Congrats, _Dr._ Coulson," Clint teased, getting to me first after the ceremony ended.

"That's right, I am a doctor. So now when I tell you to eat more fruits and fewer burgers, it'll be doctor's orders," I grinned back.

"But you're not my doctor, so I can continue ignoring you, just like I have for the past twelve years."

"You ignore your own doctor when he tells you that," Dad added, before pulling me into the biggest hug he'd ever given me. "I'm so proud of you, Sweetheart," he whispered to me.

"Thanks, Dad," I whispered back. He would never know how much those words meant to me.

After fighting through the crowd of graduates and well-wishers, Dad took us all out for dinner. I would have been fine with takeout in front of my TV, but he insisted. "After all, how often will I be able to celebrate my only daughter's graduation from med school?" he joked.

Since graduation is a big deal, we were all dressed to the nines, which meant Tasha got quite a few appreciative stares. I even got a few, as well. Dad and Clint didn't like it, however, and as soon as we were done eating, they whisked us out of the restaurant. They didn't even let us stay for dessert, but they did acquiesce to getting some to take with us. I didn't mind, as long as I got my dessert, since hopefully it meant that Clint and Tasha would be getting together soon, if he was being this possessive.

Once we got back to my apartment, Tasha immediately exclaimed, "You have a lot of stuff, kotenok."

I snorted. "Just because I have seven boxes and three suitcases to move does not mean I have a lot of stuff. And two boxes have shoes, and another is bathroom stuff. So that's four boxes of personal stuff. And none of it is really all that 'personal'. It's mostly cheap prints I bought to make this place less sterile and SHIELD-looking."

"There's nothing wrong with SHIELD-looking," the other three said in sync.

"Only if you're a spy. If you're not, then there is something wrong with it," I defended. "And, as Dad has decreed, I am not, nor will I ever be, a spy."

"You got that right," he agreed, with a firm nod.

"So I am allowed to have a few personal things in my living space," I concluded. Then, with an evil grin, I added, "And you guys get to help me move it all in the morning."

Clint groaned, and Tasha just shrugged, like she had already come to that conclusion. Dad nodded, then replied, "Before we leave, though, you need to see Director Fury. You still need to sign your contract and get your new ID badge."

"Okay, so what time does he expect me in?" I asked, knowing that the Director wouldn't have told Dad these things without having a very specific time table.

"Our flight leaves at nine, so right at eight should be acceptable," Dad told me.

"Ugh. Seeing the Director that early in the morning should not be mandatory," I whined. "Especially not when you've plied me with alcohol and chocolate."

"You make it sound like we're trying to seduce you," Clint said, looking extremely awkward.

"I could be," Tasha said, sliding her hand up my thigh. This made Clint and Dad both seem awkward.

I couldn't help it; I burst into laughter. "There is nothing going on between Tasha and me," I gasped out a few minutes later.

"Nope. It's just incredibly entertaining to see the looks on your faces," she said cheerfully.

"Yeah, it's nice to see some surprise on Agent 'Unflappable' Coulson's face," I added, teasing my dad.

Regardless of my complaints, the four of us found ourselves at the Triskelion at a quarter to eight. Clint and Tasha took my stuff to the flight deck, while Dad and I made our way to the Director's office.

"Agent Coulson, Dr. Coulson, I'm glad you could make it," Director Fury said, shaking our hands. "And may I offer you congratulations, Doctor. Graduating at the top of your class from Johns Hopkins Medical School is an accomplishment indeed, especially for one your age."

"Thank you, Director. And I would like to thank you for SHIELD's funding of my education," I replied, staying professional even if the man did terrify me a bit. The eye patch certainly didn't help.

"I like to think of it as an investment," he told me, his one eye on me the entire time. And never blinking. Then, he handed me a contract to sign, which I did as he continued talking. "And now you are ready to join us. Here is your new ID badge. With it comes a new security clearance. You are now a Level Six, which puts you in a unique position within our organization. There are five Level Six Medical personnel, six, including you. Your supervisor in New York, Dr. Campbell, is one of them, which means that anything requiring medical attention and clearance, you will be expected to assist him. Is everything clear?"

"Of course, Sir." There really wasn't anything else I needed to say. But the one eye glaring at me had demanded some sort of response.

"Good. Also, one of your classmates, a John Ronan, will be joining you in Medical. Do you know him?"

I bit back a groan. John Ronan had been an insufferable thorn in my side during my four years at med school. He had thought, as age twenty when we started, that he would be the youngest in our class, and would be looked at as some sort of child prodigy. Sadly, at age eighteen, I beat him at that. And then proceeded to beat him in every single class. Needless to say, he was not my biggest fan. "I do, Sir. He is… not fond of me, I guess," I finally answered the Director.

"Will that be a problem?" Once again, the one eye glared down at me.

"Of course not," I replied, then silently added, at least not for me.

"Good. As you know, all personnel of SHIELD are required to go through field training before actually starting in their designated division. You will start Monday morning, reporting to Agent Caswell. Given your previous training, I doubt you'll be long there. Then, you'll be reporting to Medical. Welcome, officially, to SHIELD, Dr. Coulson," he said, once again holding out his hand for me to take.

I couldn't help the grin that broke across my face. "Thank you, Sir. I've been looking forward to this day for a while now."

"As we all have. It's reassuring to have you continue your father's legacy, even if it is in a different venue. Now, before you leave, I believe that Agents Hill and May have a graduation present for you. They should be in the conference room next to Agent Hill's office."

Dad and I took that as our dismissal. We went to the designated room, where the two closest people I had to any sort of a mother-figure were waiting for us. "Congrats, Dr. Coulson," Maria said with a smile.

"Congratulations, Emily," Melinda echoed, the corners of her lips turning up, the closest she ever came to smiling anymore.

"Thanks, guys," I replied, hugging them both. I didn't care that neither were particularly happy receiving one, I just did it anyway. Everyone needs to be hugged every now and then, I decided. Doctor's orders.

"We got you something," Maria said, trying to hide her awkwardness with something as simple as a hug.

"You didn't have to," I protested.

"If I'd felt like I had to, I probably wouldn't have done it," Melinda retorted.

I snorted, then took the box she had pressed into my hands. "Well, thanks, then. You guys are sweet."

"Open it!" the two women exclaimed, apparently exasperated with my slowness.

Laughing, I slit the tape on the sides of the box with the knife Dad wordlessly handed me. Then, once I had opened the box and saw what it contained, I beamed. "Thank you!" I said, launching myself first at Maria, then at Melinda.

"We figured you would need one, now that you're officially SHIELD," Melinda told me, gesturing to the Smith and Wesson compact gun in the box.

"A girl never knows when she might need something small enough to carry in her purse," Maria continued. "Or elsewhere on her body," she added with a wink.

"That won't be necessary," Dad interrupted.

"But you'll impress Caswell when you bring that with you on Monday. Well, after you show him that you actually know how to use it," Melinda told me.

"Thanks, ladies. I truly appreciate it. After all, how many other grads can say they received firearms for graduation presents?" I joked.

After a few more minutes of catching up with them, Dad and I left to get to the flight deck and join up with Clint and Tasha. "So while we were lugging your junk around, you were busy getting presents?" Clint asked incredulously.

"Hey, I graduated, top of my class. I busted my butt to get this present. And speaking of graduation presents, how come the only one I've gotten was from Melinda and Maria?" I asked, jokingly glaring at the other three.

"Your presents are waiting for you in New York," Dad replied. "It would be ridiculous to bring them here and then have to haul them all the way back."

"I was kidding. You actually got me presents?" I was stunned. None of us were really present sort of people. There were only so many guns or knives you could give someone. And besides, it was rare that we were actually all together on occasions that called for presents.

"It's not every day my only daughter graduates from med school," Dad said, echoing what he'd said the night before.

"Aw, you're the best," I told him, kissing his cheek.

"Hey, we chipped in," Clint said, gesturing to himself and Tasha. "Coulson's not the only one who got you a present."

"Do you want a kiss, too, Robin Hood?" I teased.

"Nope, I've had enough of that to last me a lifetime," he said, quickly backing away.

"When did you kiss my daughter, Barton?" Dad asked, very serious. He had even brought out his "You don't touch my daughter" face. Which was way scarier that his "I'm a SHIELD agent and can kick the crap out of you without breaking a sweat" face.

Tasha didn't look too happy, either. In fact, if looks could kill, Clint and I would be buried in a very remote place, with no chance of anyone finding the bodies.

"It was during the whole New Mexico thing, Dad," I assured, not wanting my father to kill one of my closest friends. Or another of my friends to kill me. "It was when we had to go to the bar, pretend we were a couple. It was very short, and neither of us enjoyed it. I promise."

"Hey, I happen to be a very good kisser!" Clint protested.

"You're the closest thing I have to a brother. There was no enjoyment, whatsoever," I affirmed.

"Yeah, kissing you was the most uncomfortable thing I've ever done," he admitted. "Never again."

"Agreed."

"Yes, it won't happen again," Dad promised, glaring at Clint.

"Nope," Clint squeaked back.

…

Once back in New York, Dad made me close my eyes before going into our apartment. In fact, he even blindfolded me. "Dad, what is it?" I laughed, trusting him to not run me into anything. Now, if it had been Clint or Tasha, I would have run into so many things, I would have been black and blue the next day.

"Just a second. Okay, now wait here," he instructed. I could hear him leave the room, and Tasha and Clint breathing, but that was it. For about two minutes. I was about to tear off the stupid blindfold when I heard Dad coming back. "Are her eyes still covered?" he asked the other two.

"Yeah," Tasha replied.

Soon enough, I could feel someone, Dad, by the scent of his aftershave, standing in front of me. "Okay, you can take the blindfold off now," he told me.

I did, then instantly gasped. In Dad's hands was the cutest puppy I'd ever seen. "Oh my gosh," I cried. "Is he mine?"

"Nope, we just decided to tease you with him. His owner will be by in a few minutes to take him back," Clint deadpanned. Then yelped as Tasha's elbow came in contact with his ribs.

"Of course," Dad replied, then handed the puppy to me. "He's all yours."

I cuddled the Alaskan klee kai to my chest. He was like a miniature husky. His big blue eyes gazed into mine for a minute, then he licked my chin. "He likes me," I laughed.

"Of course he does. What's not to like, kotenok?" Tasha grinned at me briefly.

"Well, maybe the fact that apparently I'm a kitten might make a problem," I teased.

"Meh, you're a human kitten. It won't be a problem," she reassured.

"So, whatccha gonna name him?" Clint pestered.

I stared at my new dog thoughtfully for a few moments, before inspiration struck. "Achilles," I announced.

"Achilles?" Clint asked in confusion.

"Yep, Achilles. It's a classic name, literary, strong. And once I train him, I can say 'Achilles, heel'," I announced.

Clint and Dad laughed, while Tasha shook her head. "You seriously have the weirdest sense of humor."

"I know. But it's what makes me me."

**AN: So sorry his chapter took so long. In between work, family stuff, and watching the Marvel panel at SDCC, I was a bit swamped. But I will try really hard to get the next chapter up for you guys before Friday. Thanks for all the reviews/favorites/follows! It makes my day to see them!**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Once again, I sadly own only Emily.**

Chapter 6

Monday morning came way too early for me. My alarm didn't go off, so I woke up half an hour late. Then, I tripped on poor Achilles as I ran to the bathroom. My shampoo ran out after half a squirt, and I cut myself shaving my legs. My hair decided to have one of its rare Medusa days, so I couldn't tame it, no matter what I tried. The skirt I had planned on wearing had a stain on it, and Achilles had found my favorite flats and was using them as chew toys. Then, as I ran out to the kitchen, I realized it was raining. "Fantastic," I muttered, glaring at the clouds.

Dad simply smiled sympathetically and handed me some toast and an umbrella. "There's a cab waiting downstairs. Let's get you to your first day at SHIELD."

"Thanks, Dad," I said, inhaling the toast as I swung my bag over my shoulder. "You really are the best."

"Just don't tell the others," he joked.

Once we got downstairs, we passed Harold, our adorable day doorman. Of course, he only seemed like a typical, grandfatherly-type. In reality, he was one of SHIELD's oldest agents. Supposedly, he had been hand-picked by Agent Peggy Carter, one of SHIELD's founders. I wouldn't doubt it, either. I'd seen him take out a stalker of one of the residents with only a newspaper. And then he complained that the guy'd bled on the article he'd been reading. Harold was honestly one of the coolest guys I'd met. Ever.

"Good luck on your first day, Dr. Coulson," he called after me as Dad and I left. I grinned back at him, suddenly feeling better about the day. Until I stepped out into the deluge that was coming down from the heavens.

I fumbled with the umbrella, but not quickly enough to prevent being soaked. And it didn't really do much good, since the cab was only two feet from the door. Almost as soon as I'd wrestled it open, I had to close it again to get in the cab. "Are you sure I can't go back to bed and start this day over?" I asked Dad, who somehow didn't even have a drop on him.

He eyed me with a smile. "Unfortunately, that's not in my purview."

"Really? I thought you were all powerful. There goes all my childhood beliefs," I joked.

The drive to SHIELD's New York headquarters was long enough that I had time to squeeze my hair out a bit and wrangle it into somewhat of a style and fix my makeup a little. Sadly, there was nothing to do about my drenched outfit. I did have a change of clothes in my bag, but there was no way I was going to change in a taxi with my dad right next to me. Or with that cabbie continually looking back at me in the mirror.

Clint and Tasha happened through the entryway as Dad and I walked in. "Wow, Em, you look like a drowned rat," Clint laughed.

"Thank you, Clinton," I ground out through clenched teeth.

Tasha whacked his head. "Never tell a woman that," she warned.

Dad just shook his head at his team of "elite" superspies. "Have fun, Emily. See you tonight. Chinese for dinner?" he asked, already heading over to the other two.

"Yeah, I'll pick some up if I get out before you," I told him, before going toward the small crowd of nervous people, all of whom displayed excitement, to differing degrees, of course.

"Are you all new recruits, too?" I asked.

A rather attractive guy answered first. "Yeah. I'm Drake Solomon," he said, holding out his hand to me.

I shook it, replying, "Emily Coulson."

"Do you already know people here?" a mousy sort of girl asked me, completely in awe.

"Um, yeah, my dad, the guy I walked in here with, is an agent," I answered, purposefully keeping it vague. Since Dad was pretty high in SHIELD, I didn't want to start out with this group thinking I was only here because of nepotism.

"Oh, wow," she sighed. "I only heard of SHIELD two weeks ago. And I thought it was a joke, at first. Especially when I couldn't find anything online about them. But the recruiter finally convinced me. I'm Delia Legrange, by the way."

"Nice to meet you," I told her politely, shaking her hand as well.

"So what's your specialty?" Delia asked, looking like she was going to burst with excitement. "Oh, let me guess! Since your dad is an agent, that's what you'll be doing, right? I'm going into the tech department. I'm a really good hacker. And Drake here is going to be an agent, too."

"That's nice," I said with a smile, "but I'm not going to be an agent. I'm actually a doctor, heading for Medical Division."

"When I was told you would be here, Coulson, I had hoped it was some sort of sick joke," a nasally voice said behind me. "Apparently, it wasn't."

"Ronan," I said, turning to see the man behind me.

He wasn't much taller than me, maybe five-foot-five, six tops, but he had this way of puffing himself up to try and seem taller. It didn't really work, especially next to Drake Solomon, who was close to, if not over, six feet. But Ronan was looking at me like I was something he'd stepped in. Which immediately put my hackles up, especially since I was still dripping wet and looking, as Clint had put it, like a drowned rat. "What's it feel like to come in second to someone two years younger than you, Ronan?" I asked sweetly. "For four years running."

He glared at me, then turned away to sulk in the corner.

"I take it that you two know each other," Drake said, trying to hold back a smile.

"We went to med school together. He kept thinking that he was some sort of child prodigy, just for getting into med school at twenty, since most students were in their mid to late twenties. He didn't like it that I stole his thunder, as I started at eighteen. It didn't help that I was valedictorian, while he was only in the top ten of the class," I answered, shrugging. "He's just not my biggest fan," I added, echoing what I'd told Director Fury.

"Well, I don't like him," Delia said loyally. "We won't let him hurt you."

"No, we won't, the little bugger," Drake said.

A light bulb clicked on in my head. "You're British," I told him, like it was something he didn't already know.

He laughed. "Half, actually. Mum's British, Dad's American."

"So how do they feel about you joining SHIELD as an agent?" I asked, insanely curious.

"Well, Dad works for the CIA, Mum's MI6. The only way I could follow in their footsteps without showing favoritism was to join SHIELD," he laughed. "So they're pretty okay with it. Both still a bit upset I didn't join them, but happy I didn't join the other's side."

"Wow, so how long have they been divorced?" Delia wondered out loud. I was a bit grateful, since I had thought the same thing, but didn't want to appear insensitive.

"Oh, they're not divorced. They're still happily married, just incredibly competitive," Drake laughed.

Delia and I were spared from making some sort of pathetic reply when Agent Caswell arrived. "Well, well, this is my group of recruits. Let's see if I can make something out of you, shall we?" He then turned and headed back the way he came.

Trying to suppress the giggle that was attempting to make its way up my throat, I fought away the image my mind had brought up of Caswell singing "Let's Get Down To Business," from Mulan. From everything I'd seen and heard of Caswell, I really didn't think he would appreciate it.

Once we had all made it to the locker rooms, he turned back to us. "I hope you all brought workout clothes to change into," he said, eying a blonde's super high heels, my skirt, and Drake's crisp jacket. "Boys," he said, pointing to the rooms on the left, then adding, "Girls," pointing to the right. "I'll be in the training room when you're done. Just across the hall there." He then pointed to the room behind us. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go change."

We "girls" went into our locker room, and everyone but me paused just inside. I felt compelled to explain things to them, but really didn't want to start the whole "Your dad works here?" thing again. Oh well, some things can't be avoided for ever. "There's going to be a locker with your name on it."

Delia instantly believed me, looking for her locker. The others didn't, however. "How do you know?" A woman with long, amazing dark hair asked snobbily.

"Because her dad's an agent," Delia said from inside her bag, not realizing the tension that was going on around her.

"That must be how she got in," the fifth member of our little group, another blonde, snarked.

"Don't listen to them," the first blonde said. "They're just jealous because you might have some sort of idea as to what is going on. I'm Ava Montgomery," she added, reaching out to shake my hand.

There was getting to be a ridiculous amount of hand shaking going on. I briefly wished I could be as intimidating as Tasha, scaring people away with just a look. "Dr. Emily Coulson," I told her, taking the proffered hand.

"Nice to meet you, Emily. And you were Delia, right?" she asked.

Delia looked up from her bag slowly, like she'd never talked to someone quite like Ava. "Yeah," she finally answered.

"It's nice to meet you girls. I have a feeling we'll be friends," Ava announced. "And look, our lockers are next to each other."

"Just a word of warning, never go near Agent Romanoff's locker," I muttered to the other two, purposefully leaving the two snobs out. "She will hurt you."

Delia looked terrified, while Ava looked merely curious. "Agent Romanoff? Not the Black Widow?"

"Yeah, how did you know that?" A brand-new recruit should not know information like that. Unless you're me.

"I'm Alexander Pierce's daughter. I just go by my mom's name," she confided.

Realization flooded over me. "So it looks like I'm not the only legacy joining today," I joked as I began to change.

"Nope, and I think you can understand why I want to make my own name, not just riding on Daddy's coattails," she told me.

"Of course. I feel the same way." And I did. I knew exactly where she was coming from. And that had been part of my decision to go into Medical, instead of becoming an agent. It was one way I could show all of SHIELD that I was more than just my father's daughter.

Delia, Ava, and I were done changing way before the other two. I didn't feel the need to primp, since I was still drenched from the rain. And we would be doing rather physical work. It was just ridiculous to try to look good while working out. Unless you're a Victoria's Secret Angel, which I mostly definitely wasn't.

Caswell was waiting for us rather impatiently when the three of us made our way to the training room. The six guys were already there. "Where are Garcia and Henderson?" he barked at us.

"Primping," Ava replied quickly, an innocent expression on her face.

"Not for long, they're not," Caswell growled, heading back to the locker rooms.

"I am so glad I'm not on your bad side," I muttered to Ava. She merely grinned back.

Caswell came back, with vtwo ery unhappy women trailing him. "Right. First rule of training: Don't try to be gorgeous. It just wastes my valuable time and makes me cranky. And you won't like me when I'm cranky." He then made us run ten laps to prove his point.

Afterwards, we did various fitness tests for Caswell to see where we were at. While I wasn't superfit, I still did pretty well, thanks to Clint and Tasha's training all those years ago. And running had always been a stress-reliever for me, so I'd been running quite often over the past few months to try and destress from finishing med school.

After an hour of this, Garcia, the one with the amazing hair, whined from the floor, "Why do I have to do all this? I'm going into HR. I'm not going to be an agent, never going into the field."

"Second rule of training: Just because you're not going to be an agent doesn't mean you won't see the field. And everyone in here will have access to very sensitive information, information that others could use. This training is to help you be able to fight off any attacker that might come your way to use you for information. Any more questions, Princess?" The look on Caswell's face really discouraged us from asking any more.

We finally got a lunch break, so I showed my new acquaintances to the canteen. Just as I shoved a delectable bite of burger into my mouth, Clint came up behind me. "Hey, Short Stack. How's the first day going?"

Once I finally swallowed the bite that had lodged itself in my throat at Clint's surprise, I managed to say "It's been pretty good. Nothing that I couldn't do, thanks to you and Tasha."

"What can I say? I am just that good."

"You mean I am that good," Tasha corrected, arms crossed derisively.

"We are that good," Clint amended. Tasha just shook her head.

It was then that I realized the other three I'd been eating with were staring a bit. "Oh, sorry guys. These dorks over here are Agents Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton. Clint, Tasha, these are my fellow newbies, Drake Solomon, Delia Legrange, and Ava Richardson. Be nice to them. You can terrorize the others, though."

"Nice to meet you," Clint said, giving a little wave.

Tasha merely nodded in their direction. "Your dad said something about Chinese after work. We'll brings drinks."

"Not the Russian stuff," I pleaded. "I have to come in here tomorrow, and Caswell would kill me if I was hungover."

"No, we've got a mission tomorrow. Clint can't take it, either," she said with a grin. A grin that had sent many running away in tears.

"Not all of us are Russian, Nat," Clint said in exasperation.

"You're Russian?" Delia asked curiously. "You don't have an accent."

Tasha studied her for a moment before replying, "I've learned to adapt."

"You should hear her French. You'd swear it was her native tongue," I bragged, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Merci beacoup," Tasha said, faux demurely.I swear, she even managed to dredge up a blush. That girl was way too good.

"Well, we've got to go, Em, but we'll see you tonight," Clint said, before hurrying the deadliest woman in SHIELD away.

"That was the Black Widow?" Delia asked. "She doesn't seem that scary."

"Don't even think that, Delia," I warned. "She can read minds, I swear. And just be glad she didn't take offense to your comment about her accent. She landed the last newbie to ask in Med Bay for two weeks. They now use that in the training video that we will probably see this afternoon."

And sure enough, we did. Training videos for most places would probably have put me to sleep, but this was SHIELD we were being trained for. We saw authentic mission footage, for those training to be agents, real HR problems, several involving Omega Team, and actual medical situations, for me and Ronan. Once the lights came back on, Caswell started talking again.

"Now that you've seen various scenarios of what you_ might_ come across during your employment at SHIELD, is there anyone who wants out? We won't look down on you for it. In fact, we would rather you back out now if you have questions, instead of down the road when you've gotten someone killed. We'll find you a nice little place to work, make it a nice and easy transition. Any takers?"

You could hear everyone breathing, it was that quiet. After several agonizing moments, Caswell spoke again. "Alright, but don't say I didn't give you chance. And if any of you ever screw up down the road, I will personally hunt you down and make you pay for it. Moving on. We will now be going to the shooting range to see how you do there."

As we all made our way down the hall, Delia whispered to me, "Now I know what you mean about the Black Widow. She's terrifying."

"And that's exactly what she wants you to think," I replied.

"Anything you want to share with the class, Dr. Coulson?" Caswell had the ears of a rabbit, since he heard me from all the way at the front of the group.

"Just telling Ms. Lestrange that it's never a wise idea to underestimate Agent Romanoff, sir," I told him, ignoring Garcia and Henderson giggling like high schoolers.

"Hm, very true. Speaking of the Black Widow, she and Hawkeye gave you your defense lessons, didn't they?"

"Yes, sir, starting when I was fourteen."

"Interesting age," he commented with a quirk of his eyebrow. That eyebrow told me that he knew exactly why it had been when I was fourteen when I'd had my lessons."Why don't you start, then, with the demonstrations? Pick any weapon, and start."

I walked over to the massive selection of instruments of death, and paused. I really wanted to make a good impression on Caswell, and shut Garcia and Henderson up. And then I saw it: a Smith and Wesson, just like the one Maria and Melinda had given me. I'd even had a chance to take it out the day before, so I knew I could do it.

As I picked it up, some of the men in the room snickered. Ronan even said, "A little gun for a little girl." But I just smiled to myself as I took aim and squeezed off six rounds, all of them hitting the tiny bullseye.

I put the gun down, and Caswell said, "Boys, never try to insinuate anything about the size of someone's gun. Especially not anyone trained by Agent Romanoff."

**AN: I am seriously in awe of the sheer number of reviews/favorites/follows my little story has gotten. Thank you all so much! It seriously makes my day to read your reviews. I am sorry to say, though, that I will only be able to update once a week or so from now on. Maybe twice, at the most. I hope you will stick with me and Emily, because she's been a lot of fun to write.**

**P.S. Props to anyone who gets my Incredible Hulk reference!**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: I just own Emily and various other OCs. If you recognize it, it belongs to the genius that is MCU.**

Chapter 7

For the rest of the week, training was pretty much what I'd expected it to be. Sure, I was sore and sweaty by the time I made it home every night, but still, nothing I hadn't expected. I was enjoying spending lunch with Drake, Ava, and Delia, though, which I hadn't counted on. Every lunch was spent going over techniques or laughing at the screw ups we'd made earlier. I'd never met a group of people that I'd instantly connected with before. And we were all so different. Looking at us, you'd never think that we would work together, but we did.

When five o'clock Friday finally came around, we all heaved a major sigh of relief. As plans were discussed for the weekend, it became rather apparent that no one had the energy needed to head out that night. "But maybe we should do something next weekend," Delia suggested. "We'll be more used to it by then."

Agreeing, the three of us girls headed out, joining Drake and the rest of SHIELD's office staff in the outward migration. "See you guys Monday," I said in parting, then headed to pick up dinner for Dad and me.

As I was paying for our sushi, "Secret Agent Man" started playing from my purse. "You better not be saying that you're leaving, 'cause I just paid for our dinner," I said, answering my phone.

"Sadly, yes. I have a mission, it just came up. Wheels are up in five. Sorry, Em, but I got to go. I should be home Sunday, though, and we can have sushi then," Dad told me, regret mingling with excitement in his voice.

"Fine," I sighed, "but I'm eating your California rolls."

"I have no doubt you will. I've got to go. See you Sunday!" I didn't even get to say anything before he hung up, but I wasn't too worried. In fact, I was so used to it that I would have (almost) been worried if I'd been able to reply.

I slowly made my way home, nibbling on my food as I did so. Harold waved as I passed his desk on my route to the elevator. There was a woman already waiting I'd never seen before, but that didn't really surprise me. I'd been in D.C. for most of the past four years. Surely there had been a few people moving in during that time.

We boarded once the elevator came down. "What floor?" I asked, pushing the button for the twelfth floor.

"Twelve. Oh, same as you, I guess," she said, with a little, slightly awkward, laugh.

"Yep," I replied, just as awkwardly. I had thought that I still knew our immediate neighbors, but maybe not.

Once at our stop, I let her off first, partly from courtesy, but mostly from curiosity. I really wanted to see where she would go.

To my shock, she stopped at 12C. My apartment. She knocked, then jumped when I asked, "Can I help you?"

"Um, no, I'm just waiting for the person who lives here to answer the door," she answered, like I was crazy or something.

"I live here," I answered back, like she was crazy or something. After all, I had no idea who this woman was. And she was knocking on my door.

"What? You live- Oh, you must be Phil's daughter. Emily, right?"

How the crap did she know that? "Yes, and you are?" I was really confused now.

"I'm Audrey," she said, smiling. When that brought no recognition to my face, she tried again. "Audrey Nathan. The cellist? Your dad and I have been seeing each other for about six months now."

My dad is dating someone? That was definitely news to me. But as I was processing this, the poor woman's face dropped. "He hasn't said anything about me, has he?" she asked sadly.

"No, he hasn't, but that's doesn't mean anything about you. It's just because he knew I would tease him horribly, I'm sure," I rushed to reassure her. "Not to say that I won't now, but he knows me way too well to actually tell me anything like that."

"Okay," she said slowly. "Is he going to be here tonight? I got back from Boston early, so I was hoping to see him before I fly out again on Monday."

"Um, he's out of town right now, but he's supposed to be back Sunday. You know what, I've got extra sushi, if you want to come in," I invited awkwardly. Are you supposed to be friendly to your dad's girlfriend? I really didn't know what the social etiquette for this was.

"Oh, no, I don't want to impose or anything," she said quickly.

"No, it wouldn't be imposing. I had just paid for Dad's sushi when he called to say he was leaving, so you'd actually be doing me a favor. I wouldn't be able to eat all this, and I'd hate to let good sushi go to waste. How can you say no to sushi?"

"Well, maybe, if you're sure," she quavered.

"Of course I'm sure! And while we eat, you can tell me how you met Dad," I told her, unlocking the door for us both.

Over the course of the next hour or so, I learned that Dad had met Audrey because of his job. It was interesting that she actually knew about SHIELD. I knew how much it had bothered Dad to not be able to tell me anything about his job for the first three-ish years after he'd adopted me, so I figured he was relieved to be able to tell her about it. "He is so proud of you, joining SHIELD," she told me. "He's been bragging for weeks about his genius daughter."

"Well, I don't know about that," I said, mildly embarrassed.

"I do," she argued. "You graduated with honors from NYU at eighteen, valedictorian from Johns Hopkins at twenty-two. That takes some serious brains. And you're apparently really good with computers, too. Is there anything you can't do?"

"Cook," I laughed, trying to get the topic off me. "Hence the takeout."

"Yeah, your dad isn't big on cooking, either. But he seems to like it when I cook for him," she said thoughtfully.

"We're alike that way. We practically worship anyone who will cook for us," I joked.

Audrey left a little later, but not before asking me to have Dad call her when he got back on Sunday. "It was really nice meeting you, Emily," she told me. "It's nice to meet the person behind the stories."

"Please don't believe everything Dad tells you," I begged.

"So you didn't hack SHIELD and change everyone's wallpaper to Oliver Wood when you were fourteen?" she asked, smiling hugely.

"That one, yes. But I was fourteen, and, in my defense, Oliver Wood was really cute. You can't blame me really," I replied. "But anything else, don't believe it without checking with me first."

"Okay, will do. Hopefully I'll see you again soon," she said, waving to me and heading to the elevator.

I cleaned up from our dinner, then turned to my laptop. It was most definitely a Netflix-marathon kind of night. Until "Love You Like a Love Song" started playing obnoxiously on my phone. Grinning, I answered. "Hey, Tasha. What's up?"

"Clint and I are back from our mission. We're going out tonight. We need to celebrate you surviving your first week of SHIELD training. I'll be at your place in an hour to get ready," she said, not really giving me a choice in the matter. Not that I would have said no, anyway.

"Where are we going?" I asked, already getting my things ready for my shower.

"There's that new bar a few blocks from your place. I think we should try it out."

"Okay, what kind of place is it? So I know what to wear."

"Casual, but still hot. That halter vest you have makes your boobs look really good. You should wear that, and those red heels you have," she ordered.

"I might cause a bit of a stir if I don't wear anything else with it," I teased.

"Moshennik," she muttered.

"But I'm your rascal," I sang. Then I added, "Is it okay if I invite a few others? Just the three you met on Monday."

"Only if the short one doesn't ask any impertinent questions," Tasha agreed off-handedly.

"I'll warn her. See you in a bit!"

I then texted Ava, Delia, and Drake, inviting them to come, as well, and reminding them that when senior agents invite you for a night out, you go. I told the girls to meet at my apartment at the same time as Tasha, then Drake to meet us at the bar. Next, I showered and was just finishing drying my hair when Tasha walked in.

"You know, most people just knock," I told her.

"Most people don't know how to pick a lock, let alone make it look natural," she countered.

"True." I flipped my hair back over my head, since I'd been upside down, and looked at her. She was wearing an emerald green silk top, with a black leather motorcycle jacket over it, skinny jeans, and black stilettos. Her red hair hung around her shoulders in perfect curls, making her look like any guy's dream. "And how many hearts are you planning on breaking tonight?"

"None. But you didn't say anything about bruising them," she said with a sly grin.

"Poor guys have no hope," I said, just as a knock sounded at the door.

I let Ava in, pulling on my black vest as I did so. "Why did I invite you?" I teased as I looked her over. She had on a deep red, flowy top, black pants, and heels that matched her shirt. Her lipstick matched, too, setting her blonde hair and blue eyes off to perfection.

"Because you love me. And holy long hair, Batman!" she exclaimed, seeing my hair down for the first time since we'd met.

"Waist-length curls are the best accessory a girl can have," I joked, going back to the bathroom to fix them.

"I do believe I taught you that," Tasha threw in.

"You did, oh great one. I am only the pupil, master," I replied, doing some sort of fake Japanese bow.

"As long as you remember that, young grasshopper," she told me, in a rare show of her humor. At least it was rare around other people.

I finished curling my hair while the other two did final touches on their makeup. "What was the point of you coming over to get ready if you came ready?" I pointed out, giving my eyes some good wings with eyeliner.

"The company is fantastic, so I don't know what you're complaining about," Ava said pompously, before bursting out laughing.

The other two women went through my jewelry to find something that went with my black vest, silky white top, black skinnies, and the specified red heels. Finally, they agreed on a faux pearl and diamond cuff bracelet and pearl studs, deciding that anything more would get lost in my red mane. Then, as we were all ready, I started worrying about Delia.

"Do you think she's okay?" I asked, thinking about her ability to get into trouble in training.

"I'm sure she's okay," Ava answered, not very reassuringly.

Just then, there was another knock. I rushed to the door, and Delia practically fell into the apartment. "I'm so sorry! I had to pick the one cabbie who doesn't know how to get anywhere in New York! Ugh, I swear, we turned around so many times I almost got sick!"

"Speaking of getting sick, Sweetie, what are you wearing?" Ava asked the question that was on my mind, as well.

"What? Is something wrong with what I'm wearing?" Delia asked innocently.

"Only is you're going to work. As Barbie's personal assistant," Tasha said bluntly.

Delia was wearing a hot pink blazer that was actually really cute, but way too much with everything else she was wearing. She had layered it over a salmon pink buttoned shirt, a black skirt, and, surprise, pink heels. "This isn't what girls wear in New York for a night out?" she asked, sounding rather crushed.

I couldn't help it. I had to save her. "Not quite. Let's go see what I've got in my closet that you could borrow," I said, practically dragging her to my room.

Tasha beat me to it. "Try this," she said, throwing something at Delia's face. Once Delia picked it up off the floor, I recognized it.

"You should fit in it, and it would look really cute with that blazer," I told her, trying to get rid of the apprehensive look on her face.

"I've never worn a tube top before," she whispered. "What if I fall out?"

"That's what safety pins are for," Ava encouraged. "And that will make your waist look tiny, and your boobs awesome."

"Strip," Tasha ordered, in that tone of voice that no one argued with. Still, Delia wavered for a bit before finally agreeing. She took off the blazer, then slowly took off her horrible salmon shirt. She was standing there, in her bra, and staring at the top Tasha picked out like it might bite her. So I took it from her and fastened her into it.

The black top did make her boobs look good, and the white lace and ribbons right underneath her bust made her already small waist look smaller. I quickly put her blazer back on her, then stepped back. "Not bad, newbie" was Tasha's version of a compliment.

"You look hot," Ava added.

"Yep, go look in the mirror," I advised.

Delia did, and then stared. "I do look hot," she whispered a few moments later. "I've never looked hot before."

"Well, now you've got us to help you, and soon enough you'll start sweeping all the guys off their feet," Ava promised.

"But now we need to meet the guys. Clint's going to drive Drake crazy if they're left alone for too long," I said, grabbing my phone and slipping it in my back pocket.

Delia started to grab her huge purse, but I stopped her. "Just take your phone, keys, ID and debit card. And really, that's only for the cab ride home. Looking like that, you won't need to pay for drinks all night long."

"Really?" she squeaked. "I've never had a guy buy me drinks before."

"Why not? You're hot," Ava questioned.

"I'm from a little town in Illinois. If you don't like sports, you're a social reject. And the fact that I'm into computers and other geeky stuff made it worse," she shrugged, looking completely nonplussed.

"Oh, look. She totally fits into our little band of misfits," Ava laughed.

"I think you'll find that there are more of the 'social rejects' at SHIELD than you realized," Tasha said, letting a rare expression of empathy out.

"And that's my cue to say something equally empathetic, but I'm really bad at it, so let's go!" I joked, dragging them all out the door.

When we finally made it to the bar, we found Clint and Drake quite easily. They were in the middle of a crowd, dueling with darts. Drake was doing pretty well, but he really had no chance against Clint "Hawkeye" Barton. "You may as well give it up, Drake. Clint's never lost," I warned.

Both guys turned to look at us, and their reactions were rather flattering. Clint frowned at me in a show of brotherly disapproval, before looking at Tasha in awe for a moment. It was only a moment, and I was fairly certain I was the only one to see it other than Tasha, but it was there. And Drake had an appropriately shocked look on his face, one that got more shocked when he saw Delia. "Well, ladies, I knew you were all bombshells, but I must say that I never imagined exactly how much of a stir you would cause outside of work," he flattered.

"Well, now you know. And you can get us drinks to show us just how much," Delia flirted.

Drake's eyebrows raised in mild amusement, but he held out an elbow for her and led her to the bar. "What just happened?" I asked Ava, who was just as much in shock as I was.

"Apparently, all Delia needed to become a temptress was a good top and someone to tell her she looked good," she replied in disbelief.

"We've got a table over here," Clint said, taking my elbow and steering me to it.

"Clint, if you don't get your hand off my elbow, I will break it," I told him sweetly.

He did, after Tasha piped up with "And I taught her how, so you'd better do it."

"I love you like a brother, but if you try to keep me from having fun tonight, you will not like my retaliations," I continued, as Drake and Delia brought us drinks. "Remember, I have not only you and Tasha for examples, but my dad, as well."

Clint paled a bit at that, but it did the trick. He backed off, and flirted with Tasha. Delia and Drake soon went off so he could show her how to play pool, and that left Ava and me in shock.

"I never would have seen that coming," she said, gesturing to Delia giggling up at Drake.

"I know, but somehow, it's really cute," I replied. Then I added in a whisper, "And ten bucks says this guy coming up tries to flirt with Tasha."

"Psh, that would be throwing money away!" Ava cried dramatically. "I'm not that dumb!"

And sure enough, the cocky sucker came over to Tasha and leered down her shirt. "Hey, baby, can I buy you a drink?" he asked, only mildly slurred.

"I already have one, thanks," she said coldly, nodding to her vodka on the rocks.

"It's looking pretty low. I could get you a refill," he persisted.

That's when Clint stepped in. "The lady said no, now go away and find someone else to bother."

Now Clint wasn't the bigger guy, but when he stood up, looking very angry, the other guy instantly backed off. And moved onto me. "How 'bout you, Sugar?"

"Wow, really?" was all I had time to say before Clint moved closer to me.

"Back off," he said through gritted teeth.

"Hey, man, you already have one girl. Let a brother have a shot with this one," the idiot said, like I wasn't sitting right there.

"Leave them alone," Clint ordered.

But the idiot just didn't listen. "You can't claim all the pretty girls, dude."

"She's my sister, and she's my partner. Go find yourself another redhead," Clint demanded, looking like he might punch the guy in the face.

Apparently, the guy thought so, as well, since he backed away, muttering angrily. Tasha simply looked at Clint for a moment, before grabbing his hand and saying "Come on, seksual'naya." They went over to their own pool table, while I simply stared in shock.

"Emily? Are you okay?" Ava asked, waving her hand in front of my face.

"Um, yeah, I'm just a little thrown off. I thought Tasha would have yelled at Clint for being sexist or something. I would never have imagined that reaction," I explained.

"Well, that leaves us single ladies. Shall we have some fun?" Her grin made me wonder if I would regret it in the morning, but I agreed, anyway.

Ava led the way to a pool table and racked the balls. "Shall we show these boys how it's done?" she asked cheekily.

"I do believe we shall," I grinned back.

After three hours of beating all comers, we finally decided to call it a night. When we talked to Delia and Drake, he assured us he would make sure she got home safely, so we left them to it. And Clint and Tasha had disappeared hours before. "May I see you home, m'lady?" Ava asked, her faux-distinguished manner ruined by her giggling.

"Of course, it would be my honor," I replied, giggling just as much as she had.

On our way back to my apartment, the three different guys who tried to take advantage of our slightly tipsy state ended up with various broken bones. "I forgot to thank you, by the way," Ava stated, calmly walking around the last guy.

"For what?" I asked, not bothering to step around the guy's hand.

"You're the reason I finally was allowed to take defense lessons, starting me on my way to become an agent. I was sixteen, and suddenly, because of some fourteen-year-old, I was not only allowed to take lessons, but expected to. Dad wasn't so happy, but it made my day. So thanks," she said sincerely.

"No problem. I'm glad my troublemaking days could do you some good," I grinned happily. But that might have been the slight buzz I was experiencing from my Coke and rum. Or the six Coke and rums. Meh.

**AN: Here's a surprise long chapter for you guys! Thanks for all the support! I'm loving every review, even if I don't reply to each one. They totally make my day. **

**P.S. Seksual'naya is Russian for sexy, at least according to Google translate. Hopefully I'm getting everything right!**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: I only own my OCs, and what plot I didn't steal from Marvel. Hope you like this chapter's canon character intro!**

Chapter 8

I woke up late the next morning to Achilles licking my nose. Apparently, he thought I'd gotten enough sleep. After I threw on some clothes and wrangled my hair into a ponytail, I grabbed his leash, my phone and keys, and we set off for a walk in the park.

Achilles was so excited to be outside. He happily sniffed or yipped at almost everything we passed, and once we got to Central Park, it was like he was in heaven. There were so many things he'd never seen that he needed to explore. It was exhausting trying to keep up with him in my sleep-deprived and mildly hungover state.

Thankfully, Dad had trained him well enough that I didn't need to hold onto his leash the whole time. I found a sunny patch of grass and collapsed, grinning as he went chasing a butterfly. He really was the cutest thing I'd ever seen.

My phone going off startled me from daydreaming. "Hey, Dad. Let me guess, you're going to be gone for a while longer," I said, knowing him so well.

"Yeah, sorry Em. But this is huge. I can't tell you yet, but it's huge. I'll be gone for another day or so, but I'll call you when I can, okay?"

I could tell how big this assignment was just from the excitement in his voice. I'd hardly ever heard him this excited before. Though, to most people, it would just seem like mild excitement. It was only because I knew him so well that I could hear how much this meant to him.

"Okay, Dad. Have fun on your super secret mission," I teased.

"Oh, I will. So what are you doing this morning?" he asked. Apparently, he had a few moments before needing to go on his mission.

"Achilles and I are having fun in the park. Or really, Achilles is having fun, and I'm trying not to squint too much. I forgot my sunglasses," I whined mildly.

"Barton and Romanoff took you out last night, didn't they?" Dad guessed shrewdly.

"Yes, but I only had a few drinks. I don't drink like they do. You know that," I assured.

"No one can drink like Agent Romanoff. At least no one who isn't Russian."

We chatted for a few more minutes, just catching up with each other. We'd just seen each other the day before, but I always cherished talking to my dad. I did decide, however, to keep my knowledge about Audrey to myself for now, until I could see his face as I dropped that bomb. It would be priceless.

Apparently, Achilles thought I was ignoring him, so he came and started licking my face again. "Dad, I got to go. Achilles wants to play some more. Call me when you can," I told him. "And be safe!"

"I always am," was his parting remark.

Achilles had brought me a stick, so of course we played fetch for a while. Then, he got distracted by another dog. He was the friendly, active puppy, while the other dog was the patronizing older one, giving him a modicum of attention before trying to ignore him. It didn't work. Poor Achilles just didn't get the hint.

I watched him trying to get more attention, and failing spectacularly. It amused me for a while, but then I remembered that Tasha and Clint had ditched me the night before. Picking up my phone, I texted her, saying, "The only way I'm forgiving you for ditching me and my celebration is if you tell me you and Clint are finally together."

It took a few minutes to get a reply, but the one I got made my day. "Yes, we are, lyubopytnyy."

"I'm only nosey when it's about people that are meant to be together. And it's taken you long enough!" I texted back. Then, I sent another one. "But I definitely don't need details."

"Good, 'cause you ain't gettin' any." I knew that was Clint, not Tasha. Occasionally, his Iowan roots showed through. I just wondered how he'd gotten Tasha's phone from her. "And we want to keep this quiet for now."

"Of course. So, did you guys know about Dad having a girlfriend and not tell me?" I asked, trying to get more info. And preparing to be mad at them if they'd known about it and not told me.

"Coulson has a girlfriend?" immediately came back to me.

"Yep. And you guys can't tease him about it until I get to, face to face," I warned.

"Oh, no. That's not happening," I got back from them, not really sure which one it was.

"Oh, it had better happen, or I'm telling Dad who really switched his coffee to decaf last summer," I warned.

I didn't get a response for a while after that, but when I did, it only said, "K." I knew it was enough to hold my friends at bay for a while.

I looked over to Achilles, to find him asleep on the ground a few feet away from me. All his playing had apparently worn him out. In fact, I was pretty sure he had simply dropped where he'd been standing, since he was sprawled on the ground, one foot under him. Laughing, I picked up my poor, tired puppy and carried him home. Thankfully, he was very light.

The rest of my weekend was spent finishing unpacking, as I'd worked almost every day since I'd moved back. Delia did come over to pick up her things she'd left and drop off my top, but sadly, she refused to give me any details about her night with Drake. Although, if her blushes were anything to go by, she'd had a great night.

We were in the shooting range, practicing with whichever weapon we found most comfortable, when Caswell pulled me aside. "How do you feel about the training, Dr. Coulson?"

I could tell he was serious, and I really doubted that I could say anything to hurt his feelings, so I was honest. "It's great, for everyone else. For me, it's nothing I didn't already know. Between Hawkeye and Black Widow training me, and my dad taking me out to the shooting range almost every weekend, I already know all this. And it's really all I need to know for Medical."

He simply nodded. "That's what I thought. Maybe when Omega Team gets older, they'll consider training."

I laughed. "I wouldn't count on it. When they get too old to go on missions anymore, they'll simply disappear, and SHIELD won't hear from them ever again."

"That's probably true," he mumbled. "Well, as training has become redundant for you, the Director has a new assignment for you. He's waiting in his office to speak with you."

Looking down at myself, I figured I was okay in my training outfit of yoga pants and a tank top. And it was never a good idea to keep Director Fury waiting. "Thanks for all the good times in training, Agent Caswell. It's been fun," I told him, for once being the one to initiate the handshake.

"I'm sure it has," he replied, a glimmer of mirth in his eyes.

Walking quickly, I headed to the elevators. I tried to figure out what my new assignment was, but I had no clue. I'd thought that I was going straight into Medical, working under Dr. Campbell, but evidently, that had changed. But there was no telling where I would be going, instead.

Never before had an elevator ride seemed to take so long. I was impatient to find out what my assignment would be, so of course, nearly every floor required a stop for someone else. I was about ready to punch someone when the elevator finally climbed to Director Fury's floor.

The Director's secretary, who had to be at least ninety and the most patient person in the world, smiled up at me and said, "He's expecting you, Dr. Coulson." So I went in, anxious to see how my life would be changing, yet again.

"Dr. Coulson, how was your training? I hope you didn't hurt too many egos while you were down there," Fury asked, not even looking up from the file on his desk.

Dad, who was standing next to his boss, looked like a little kid on Christmas morning. I was happy to see him, too, but not quite as excited as he was. Or maybe whatever his mission had been ended up really well. Either way, it was very odd to see him show that much emotion.

When Fury looked up at me, I realized that I'd been staring at Dad and hadn't answered the question. "Not too much, Sir. At least, no more than necessary."

"Good. I wouldn't think someone with your training would do it any other way," he said, with a very small smirk. But it was gone almost before I'd seen it, falling back into its "I mean business" position. "Dr. Coulson, when you were doing your internship last summer with Dr. Beckenbauer, you wrote a paper about a hypothesis you had. Would you care to explain it to us?"

I knew exactly what paper he meant. I'd written a paper on Captain America one very slow week after Dr. Beckenbauer had told me that people were still trying to figure out exactly what formula had been used on Captain America, and what effects it might have had. I just didn't know why Director Fury would want to talk about that. But he did, so I began. "Well, I believe that, given the part of the world where he crashed, Captain America may still be alive. The body is a remarkable thing, very strong, and his is so far advanced above the normal, that I believe there is a chance that he might still be alive."

I paused for breath, and to see what the Director thought so far. He merely waved his hand, so I continued. "I think, based on what little we know of the serum, it would have fought to keep him alive. The likelihood of him being frozen is quite high, and I think that his body would have tried to fight the freeze, but after so long, without any relief, I believe that his body would have gone into a … a sort of cryogenic state, keeping him alive, but unconscious. The body is incredible, and can handle high amounts of pain and suffering. So, as long as the serum is in his blood, he would still be alive."

"So, hypothetically, if the Captain were found, and he was alive, frozen but unconscious, he would eventually wake up, making a full recovery?" Fury asked.

"Most probably," I answered, wavering slightly. "Like I said, the body is incredibly hardy, his more than anyone's, but the mind is another matter. From everything I've heard about the Captain," here I tossed a small smirk at Dad, "his mind was enhanced the same as the rest of his body. And while that may be so, waking up and discovering that you are roughly seventy years in the future would be devastating to anyone. This would undoubtedly be too much for a normal mind. For one as advanced as Captain Rogers', who knows? I can hardly cite precedence in a case like this."

"Your daughter is a genius, Agent Coulson," Fury said, looking at Dad.

"I would have to agree, Sir," Dad replied, the ridiculous grin still on his face.

"Dr. Coulson, will you follow me, please? There is something that you need to see," the Director said, leading the way from his office.

I knew that asking questions would do me no good, so I simply followed. Knowing that didn't stop me from shooting Dad a questioning look, to which he simply grinned more.

I followed the Director through a few hallways, mind buzzing with unanswered questions. Why would he ask me all that about Captain America? It was all hypothetical. It's not like-

"Oh. My. Gosh. You found him," I gasped, the light bulb finally clicking on.

"Just keep walking, Emily," Dad said in my ear, hand on my back to keep me walking forward. "This is classified."

"Right. Yep. Got it," I squeaked, trying to limit my outward fangirling. It was hard, but I think I managed it. Just barely.

Fury led us to an observation room attached to a private medical room. And there he was. Captain Rogers looked like he was simply sleeping, or he would have, if he didn't still have a slight blue tinge to his skin. He was still in his uniform, which was remarkably preserved for something over seventy years old. "I can't believe you actually found him," I breathed, hardly able to contain my excitement. Here was the man that my dad had idolized, had told me stories about for the past twelve years. Most people thought he'd just been an actor, propaganda for the war effort. To those of us who knew better, he was a hero, an idol. And I was staring at him like a little kid meeting Iron Man. I'd met Iron Man, and trust me, he had nothing on Captain America.

"You were right, fraulein," a soft German voice said to my right. My head whipped over to see my mentor, the one who was the reason I'd gone into medicine. In my excitement to see Captain America, I hadn't even noticed another person in the room.

"I can't believe it," I replied. "I mean, science said that it was a possibility, but I never imagined that we'd actually find him."

"We have a lost Russian oil team to thank for that," Dad said, an impish smile on his face. "Without them, who knows how long Captain Rogers would have gone undiscovered?"

"You were the first and only person to have a logical hypothesis as to how Captain Rogers could have survived. You are the only one, outside of those with blind hope, to even dare think he might still be alive, Dr. Coulson," the Director told me. "As such, you deserve to be the one in charge of his recovery."

"What?" I gasped. "I can't possibly- I mean- There are so many more qualified- Dr. Beckenbauer surely is much more qualified for this than me. I just graduated from med school a week and a half ago!"

"You are the one to see what so many of us had not. You had hope, when so many of us had given up. You can do this, fraulein. I have faith in you." Dr. Beckenbauer's soft words filled me with warmth, as did Dad's look of pride and confidence.

I took a deep breath, then said, "Alright, will you bring me up to speed, Dr. Beckenbauer?"

He smiled, then did so. I learned that, so far, the team was trying to slowly defrost the Captain, raising his temperature slowly. And, other than his frozen state, he was physically fine. No broken bones, no ruptured organs, not even a scratch. "Well, that is to be expected," I said, "since the serum had seventy years to repair any other damage."

"Exactly so," Dr. Beckenbauer replied, smiling. "I only wish I could look like good when I am ninety-one."

My laugh turned into a sigh and I looked back to my new patient. "I can take care of his body, but what about his mind? How am I supposed to be able to heal that?"

"That's why we are bringing in a psychiatrist to help you," Fury answered, startling me because I had forgotten that he was still there. And my dad. "You will be in charge of keeping Captain Rogers physically healthy, while Dr. Atkins is over the mental health. Now, we'll leave you to get acquainted with your team."

He and Dad left, and Dr. Beckenbauer led me into the connected room. He introduced me to the nurse changing an IV bag. She smiled in greeting, but it had a mildly condescending tone to it. Or at least I felt it did. And as I met the rest of my team, I felt the same way with each person. I could practically hear their thoughts of "She's too young. She doesn't deserve to be here. She's only here because of her daddy."

Dr. Beckenbauer evidently read the situation the same way. He stretched himself to his full six-foot-plus frame and said sternly, "Dr. Coulson has every qualification to be here. Not only is she a certified genius, she is also the only one to hypothesize that Captain Rogers could actually be alive. If you have a problem with her leading this team, then I suggest you talk to Director Fury. I'm sure he could have you transferred to another team."

That cut off any antagonizing looks I was getting. They were replaced with shock, but that was a bit better. I then spent the rest of the morning familiarizing myself with the room, making sure I knew where everything was, just in case. And trying not to fangirl too much over Captain Rogers.

When Dad came to get me for lunch, I was surprised at the time. "Time flies when you're having fun," Dad teased.

"I think I'm still in shock," I confessed. "I mean, yes, I did write that paper, but I never really thought we would find him. After all, Howard Stark looked for how long for him? You'd think with all his resources, he would have found something. But he's really here, Dad. And I'm the one in charge of getting him back up and running."

"He's not a machine, Em," Dad scolded gently.

"I know, but what if I can't do it? What if he never wakes up, regardless of what I try to do?" I was telling him the thoughts that had been troubling me all morning. And I never would have admitted it to anyone else, but he was my dad. If a girl can't tell her dad her worries, who can she tell?

"Even if he doesn't wake up, you'll know you tried everything you could do. And in the end, that's all anyone can do," he advised.

Dang, Dad could be deep! I thought about that the whole time it took us to get through the line in the canteen for our food, finally admitting to myself that he was right. I could only do my best.

Just as Dad was taking a sip from his bottle of water, I thought of something. "So, Dad, how's Audrey?"

**AN: So, Emily gets to take care of her dad's hero. She's one lucky girl! On another note, I am so sorry this chapter took so long to get to you. My muse curled up and died, leaving me with nothing but filler. And I am morally opposed to filler, so I couldn't write anything. Hopefully, the next chapter will come a bit more quickly. And Emily just might get a bit of romance ;) Thanks for all the reviews/favorites/follows. Your encouragement means so much to me!**

**AN: I've edited just a titch since posting this. Just some minor typos, nothing new. Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: i don't own Marvel, sadly. But I do have another canon character for you!**

Chapter 9

Causing speechlessness in my father had always been a rare thing, so I revelled in it. His face even turned an interesting shade of red as he tried not choking on the water he'd just swallowed. He even gawked at me. On anyone else, it would have been a bit amusing. On my dad, it was outright hysterical.

I laughed while he spluttered. Finally, he gained control of himself again and glared at me. "That was mean to spring on your old man like that."

"What was mean was springing a surprise girlfriend on me. I had no idea that the woman I'd shared an elevator with was your girlfriend. And I think it hurt her feelings that I didn't even know about her," I said, pouring on the guilt. But when I saw the stricken look on his face, I relented. "Until I assured her that it was because I would tease you terribly and had nothing to do with her."

Dad's face relaxed a bit, then tensed again. "Do Barton and Romanoff know?"

"Of course they do! But I made them wait until I had the chance to tease you properly for it before they could say anything."

"I knew something was up. They had smirks on their faces all morning," he grumbled. "What do they have in store for me?"

"I have no idea, but you totally deserve everything and more for keeping this from us. But I have to admire your skills for keeping this a secret for over six months. Although, I think it would have been a shorter amount of time if I'd been here, instead of in D.C."

After lunch, Dad tried to follow me back to Captain America's room, but I reminded him that Clint and Tasha had been unsupervised for most of the morning, already. And that was never a good thing. So he reluctantly left me, but promised to check up on me "just to see if you need anything." He was being such a fangirl, but trying so hard to hide it.

As I went back to the Captain's room, I found myself pondering how I would react, if I were in his place. The world had seen so much change in the past seventy years that it was almost another planet. Add to that the fact that everyone he knew was dead, or at the very least, extremely old. I realized that I would not handle something like that well, to say the least. But I vowed that I would help him, in any way I could. I knew what it was like to be alone in the world, and I never wanted to see someone in that position.

…

Over the next few weeks, my team gradually raised Captain America's temperature, one degree at a time. I quickly realized that I would turn into his double if I didn't start wearing warmer clothes. So I found myself wearing cardigans over tops, and tights under my skirts, just to keep me from freezing.

I spent so much time worrying about him, hoping he would wake up, wondering how he would handle the shock of it all if he did, that I didn't even notice that he had become Captain Rogers to me, instead of Captain America. And in my free time, I watched all the old war bond films he'd done, trying to get a glimpse of the real man behind the mask. Dad came often, just to check up on him, and he shared again many of the old stories he'd told me before.

One morning, I was going over the data that had been collected the night before when a group of four men barged into the observation room. "Where is he?" one older man, obviously the leader of the group, demanded.

"Excuse me, but who are you?" I was trying to be polite, but his bossy tone, and rude entrance, put me on defense quite rapidly.

"Where is Captain Rogers? Is that him?" he demanded, ignoring my question.

So I ignored his. "Who are you? This is a restricted area, and you do not have the clearance necessary to be in here," I told him, raising to my full height of five feet, three inches. I was suddenly very disappointed in my shoe choice of flats, since I could have used the extra inches afforded by wearing heels.

"I don't have time to deal with you, little girl," he said derisively.

I hardly had a chance to stare in shock at his arrogance when a voice sounded at the door. "That 'little girl' can knock you out in five different ways, so I'd be a bit nicer if I were you, General."

"Director Fury," the general replied, turning to look at him. "I figured it would be easier if we met down here than in your office. It saves us the trip up there, since we would be coming down here anyway."

"I realized that. But you should have saved yourself the trip to SHIELD anyway, since we are not turning Captain Rogers over to you," Fury said calmly.

The general, who I was beginning to think was General Ross, didn't like that answer. "Now see here, Fury. That man is U.S. Army property, and we will have him back."

"That man," I began hotly, "is in fact a man, property of no person or organization. But if you insist on claiming ownership, you owe him about seventy years of back pay. And I'm pretty sure that ninety-one is well beyond the age of retirement."

"Listen here, Missy, you need to learn how to speak to your superiors," the general spat.

"It's Doctor, not Missy, and you are not my superior in any way. Director Fury is my immediate superior in a work sense, and I promise you that I am your superior in any intellectual sense. So maybe you need to learn how to treat others with respect, and then you might get some in return," I replied angrily.

"General Ross, I'd like you to meet Dr. Emily Coulson, Captain Rogers' primary doctor," Fury said with a peculiar smile.

"Coulson? Not that Coulson?" Ross asked in a snarl.

"Yes, that Coulson," I replied, knowing that he referred to the interactions he'd had with my dad.

"That explains it," he grunted. "I at least want to see Captain Rogers, even if you won't turn him over to me now. And don't think that this is final, Fury. We will have him in our custody."

"He's not a criminal!" I cried. "He's a hero, one who deserves our respect and gratitude!"

"I do respect him. I'll respect him by letting him continue his mission to serve and protect our country," Ross growled at me.

Fury interrupted before I could reply. "We will let you see Captain Rogers, but not for long. Too many people could raise the room temperature dangerously, putting him at risk. After all, we try to keep his temperature as steady as possible."

Ross evidently took Fury at his word, though it wasn't exactly the truth. Before he walked through the door, he turned to one of the other men and said, "Get her information so we can get updates, Barlow."

Once the others were all in Captain Rogers' room, the man turned to me and asked for my number. "You realize that I am not telling you anything about Captain Rogers, right?" I asked in return.

He grinned. "I figured you wouldn't, but this way I can kill two birds with one stone. I'm following orders, and I can get your number so I can ask you out sometime."

I studied him. He looked late twenties, maybe early thirties. He had his dark hair cut military short, and his hazel eyes glinted rather charmingly. He was rather tall, and he filled his uniform out quite nicely. "Why don't you just ask me out anyway?" I flirted, somewhat surprising myself with my boldness.

"Alright, are you doing anything tonight?" he asked, grinning even more widely.

"Actually, I'm not. What did you have in mind?" It had been a while since an attractive guy had asked me out, and I was enjoying the experience. Probably more than I had my last date.

"How does dinner sound? Around six?"

"Sounds perfect. Should we meet somewhere?"

"No, I'll pick you up. I'm assuming you'll be here, still?"

"Yes, I will. So six it is," I said, not even trying to hold my smile back as I wrote my name and number down for him.

"Six it is," he echoed, smiling back.

Just then, the other men came walking back in. "I expect updates, Fury," Ross ordered.

"We'll see what we can do," Fury replied, without giving a straight answer.

"Lieutenant, do you have her information?" Ross asked, not even giving me the courtesy of using my name or title.

"I do, Sir," Barlow replied.

"Then move out. We have other places to be," Ross ordered.

I breathed a sigh of relief once the door shut behind them. I turned when Fury started chuckling. "I've never seen Thunderbolt Ross look so angry and perturbed, not even after talking to Tony Stark. Congratulations, Dr. Coulson. Your father will be pleased to hear about this."

"I'm glad I could help," I grinned. "That man needs to be taken down a whole ton of notches, and I was more than glad to do a few."

Fury left when one of my nurses came back in. As she was checking Captain Rogers' vitals and changing the IV, I had nothing to do. So I did what any woman with a date to look forward to would do: I ran upstairs to consult my best female friend.

"Tasha, I need your help!" I called as I ran into Omega Team's office area.

She, along with Dad and Clint, turned to look at me with concern. "What's wrong?" they all asked in sync.

"I have a date right after work, and I need to look cute! I don't have time to go home and change, so what I've got on is what I have to work with!" I cried.

"Who do you have a date with?" Dad and Clint asked in alarm, once again in sync.

"His name is Lieutenant Barlow. He's really cute," I said. Somehow, that didn't reassure them.

"Barlow? Not General Ross's adjutant?" Dad asked, almost in a growl.

"Probably. At least he was with the General when he barged into Captain Rogers' room," I replied with a shrug.

"You can't date him!" Dad was very insistent, but there was no way I was going to listen.

"You can't protect me forever," I told him, then turned to Tasha. "I need you!"

"What do you have on under the cardigan?" she asked, starting to circle me.

I undid my belt that was holding the cardigan securely, then shrugged off the said article. "That top is cute enough, I mean, he can't expect a complete wardrobe change if you're leaving from here. And that skirt is good, just pull it up to make it high-waisted, and shorter." Dad made a disgruntled noise at that. "Do you have other shoes with you here? Please say you have heels."

"I do. You've taught me well, master. I always have a pair of really cute heels here, just for such an occasion," I replied, ignoring the men and their unhappy expressions.

"Good. Then, all you'll need to do is fix your makeup and let your hair down. Everyone always loves your hair when it's down," she decided.

"Your hair looks just fine the way it is," Dad protested. "Having it down is a bit much for a first date."

"But I might like it to go past a first date," I told him. "He is really attractive."

"What if he's just dating you to get intel on Captain Rogers?" Clint suggested. Tasha elbowed him, and he realized how that sounded. "Not that that would be the only reason for someone to ask you out, 'cause you're gorgeous, but it's a real possibility."

"He already knows that I'm not about to tell him anything. Even if it wasn't classified information, there is such a thing as doctor-patient confidentiality," I said hotly. "I'm not an idiot, Clint. I'm not going to tell him something I shouldn't just because he asked me on a date."

In the end, after a very long discussion, both men had to concede the fact that I was actually allowed to date. Mostly because they both realized that I would, whether they liked it or not. But I had a sneaking suspicion that Lieutenant Barlow would be getting a rather unfriendly greeting party when he came to pick me up.

Sure enough, when I got a call saying Lieutenant Barlow was there to pick me up, I found him in an interrogation from Dad and Clint. Dad's hand was resting ever so unobtrusively on his gun, while Clint kept playing with the fletching on one of his arrows. That's not intimidating at all.

"That's enough, I think," I said, taking his arm and pulling him away from my strange family.

"I am so sorry about that," I told him once we were out of the building. "They think they have to protect me from everything in the world."

"That's what family's for, right?" he told me, and surprised me by smiling. "And there aren't many people who can say they've been threatened by Agents Coulson and Barton and lived to tell the tale."

"True. So where are we going for dinner?" Lieutenant Barlow went up in my estimation, being able to stay cool under interrogation, and then even more for opening the door to his car for me. And I was sure that Dad and Clint were putting that in their, presumably very short, pro column.

"This amazing Greek place I found last time I was here. Their entrees are really good, but the baklava is to die for," he said, sliding behind the wheel.

"How do you know I'm not on a diet?" I asked, teasing a bit. And once again surprising myself with my boldness.

His answer absolutely floored me. "Because you are stunning the way you are without dieting."

"I think I like you, Lieutenant. I just realized that I don't even know your first name," I said suddenly, feeling a little weird.

He laughed. "It's Carter."

"I like that. It suits you."

"You can thank my mother for that. Her father was in the SSR with Peggy Carter, and she always idolized her. She was hoping for a daughter she could name after her hero, but she got stuck with me, instead. Thankfully, she went with Carter and not Peggy. I can't imagine going through life as Peggy."

"It would have been a little rough, I imagine," I said, laughing. "Sort of 'A Boy Named Sue' type thing."

"Exactly like that. I'm so glad my father convinced her to go for Carter, instead."

Carter and I talked endlessly for the rest of the evening, effortlessly moving from one topic to the next, and never running out of something to say. I learned that he was only working with General Ross because the general had requested him as a favor to Carter's father. He heard a good chunk of my adoption story. Dinner was delicious, the baklava divine, but the absolute best part of the evening was the company. I'd rarely felt so immediately at ease with someone, and never been able to talk to someone like that.

After we finally left the restaurant, we walked around Times Square for a while, since it had been ages since either of us had done so. As we wandered, Carter took my hand to cross the street, and simply didn't let go. I most certainly wasn't complaining.

Unfortunately, the night did have to end. Carter drove me back to my apartment, but we stayed talking forever. And then suddenly, we weren't talking anymore. His lips found mine, and I was lost. It was fantastic. We only stopped when he accidentally honked the horn with his elbow.

Carter rested his forehead against mine, letting me catch my breath. "I would love to see you tomorrow," he said, staring at my lips.

That made me feel good, both his words and his action. "I'd be more than a little hurt if you didn't," I confessed.

He grinned. "I have to work until about seven, but can I see you after that?"

"Of course, what did you have in mind?" I probably would have gone camel racing, if that's what he wanted to do. I didn't care, as long as it was with him.

"I might be able to wrangle some tickets to a show. What would you like to see?"

My answer was a bit delayed, since his thumb rubbing circles just under my ear was more than a little distracting. "Um, whatever. I don't care."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do. Pick you up at seven?"

"Seven it is," I replied, but didn't move to leave the car.

Carter was apparently of the same mind as me, since his lips instantly found mine again. We kissed for quite a while, until we realized it was nearly midnight. "I have to go to work tomorrow," I said softly, in between kisses.

"Me too," he replied, pulling me back to him for more.

Eventually, I did make it up to my apartment, only to find Dad waiting for me. "I'm not a teenager anymore," I reminded him.

"I just wanted to make sure you came home safely," he replied calmly. Then he noticed my rather dishevelled appearance. "I take it the date went well." This time, his tone was almost glacial.

"Yes, it did," I said defiantly. "And I'm seeing him again tomorrow night, too. Now, I'm going to bed."

Dad's face softened as I moved to pass him. "Em, you know I want you to be happy. But I have to look out for my little girl. I don't want to see you hurt."

I softened, too. "I know, but you have to let me make my own decisions. I'm a big girl now. And I might make mistakes, but they are my mistakes to make. I'm gonna have a ball making them, and then I'll bawl my face off when they blow up in my face. But I know you're always going to be there for me."

"Darn right," he said, pulling me into his arms. Then he stiffened a bit. "This better not be one of those that blow up in your face, or I'll kill him."

I simply laughed, and hugged him tighter.

**AN: Once again, this chapter took a bit longer than I'd planned. Sorry about that! I want to thank all 32 people who've favorited Emily's story, and especially all who've reviewed. It means so much to me that you like my work. **


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: I only own Emily and various other OCs.**

Chapter 10

For the next two weeks, my life was split between two men. During the day, I focused and worried about Captain Rogers. We were raising his body temperature about a degree a day, so it would be a while before it was back up to normal, or what was normal for him. Someone digging through the archives as punishment found the Captain's medical records, so we knew that he had run around 102° after the serum. My whole team was looking forward to the day we would no longer need to bundle up for work. Though, that would probably be about the time that the rest of New York started bundling up outside.

My nights and weekends, however, were spent with a certain Lieutenant. Carter and I spent every moment we could together, going to shows, restaurants, and clubs, or even going on picnics in the park. I wasn't too picky about what we did, just as long as I got to spend time with him. Then, two Thursdays after we met, he had bad news.

"Emily, I'm so sorry, but the General is done here in New York. We'll be leaving Saturday morning, heading back to the Pentagon," he told me over dinner.

I had blissfully ignored the fact that Carter didn't actually live in New York, but this brought it back rather forcefully. "Oh," was all I managed to say in my shock.

"Emily, you had to know this would happen," Carter said, a bit sternly.

"I know, I guess I just forgot. Or maybe hoped we would have longer, that's all," I replied, trying to put a happy face on.

"Don't worry, I'll come back whenever I have a weekend off or something. And I think the General will probably have me come back when Captain Rogers wakes up. He wants to have an eye on things."

"You know I'm still not going to tell you anything, right?"

"Of course. But the General doesn't need to know that. Especially since it gives me the chance to come see you again," Carter answered logically.

We made plans to have one last night together before he left. But then, I was ambushed by Delia and Ava at lunch the next day. "We never see you anymore!" Delia cried. "I miss our little training group."

"We are going out tonight, celebrating our release from training, 'cause not all of us can be Wonder Woman and be done with training in a week," Ava told me, mock-glaring.

"It would have been different if I was going to be an agent, but I already knew everything I need for Medical," I replied. "But I can't go out with you tonight. I have plans with Carter since he's leaving in the morning."

"Really?" Ava whined. "You've had plans with him every night since you met him. We need to celebrate! And we need our training buddy!"

"You can bring him with," Delia suggested. "I mean, Drake and I will be together, and Ava's bringing that cute Agent Ward along, so it would totally be fine if you brought Carter. And we still have to meet him to approve of this whole relationship."

I was overruled. "Let me see what Carter thinks, and I'll let you know, okay?" Ava wasn't too happy about that answer, but Delia squealed like I'd given her a million dollars.

"We are going to have so much fun!" she said, once she'd released me from her hug.

After talking to Carter, I informed the girls that we would meet up with them that night. After more squealing (from Delia) and some grumbles (from Ava), we agreed to meet up at some new club Delia had heard about from some of the other recruits. "But one of these nights, we seriously have to have a girls' night," Ava informed.

Since Carter wasn't picking me up until seven-thirty, I had a chance to go home and get ready. And as it was our last night together, I wanted to give him a little something to remember me by. I went all out, leaving my hair down, making sure each strand was curled to perfection. Going for the dramatic look, I gave myself some serious smoky eyes, and blood-red lips. And to finish it all off, I pulled out my favorite dress: a little silver sequined number that formed to my every curve, stopping about mid thigh.

Dad knocked on my open bedroom door as I buckled my ankle-strap heels on. "Going out again tonight?" he asked, a bit needlessly. It's not like I dressed like that to stay home and Netflix all night.

"Yep, Carter and I are meeting some friends for his last night here in town," I told him, then took in his outfit. He was wearing a tux. So either he had a date, or he was going undercover. "Are you and Audrey going somewhere?"

"She's got a concert here tonight, so I'm going, and then we're going to dinner afterwards," he replied, then went back to my plans. "You're going out with friends tonight? I'm glad, you haven't seen much of them since you started dating Carter."

"Well, that's what happens when you start dating someone, Dad, especially when you have a limited time with that person. Carter is leaving in the morning," I informed him, grabbing my earrings as I stood up.

"Isn't that dress a bit short?" Dad asked, eyebrows in his hair.

"It covers everything, even when I bend over. I checked before I bought it," was my, slightly snappy, retort.

His eyebrows were still raised in disbelief. It almost looked like they were stuck like that. "All I'm saying is that you shouldn't ignore your old friends just because you have a new boyfriend."

Carter ringing the doorbell saved me from a potentially awkward conversation. "See you later," I told Dad, kissing his cheek. "And have fun with Audrey!"

When I opened the door and saw Carter, I was reminded of how lucky I was to be his girlfriend. He had a blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had some really sexy forearms. "Hey," he said, after I'd spent a moment staring at him.

"Hi," I replied, somewhat awkwardly.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked slowly.

"Oh, um, yeah, I am. Yeah, let's go," I said quickly, trying to get past my random burst of awkwardness. I just had moments where I couldn't believe he'd actually chosen me.

We met the others at the bar, and we had a good time. Poor Carter felt a bit out of the loop, since we all worked together, but we somehow managed. The two of us didn't stay terribly long, since it was the night before he was supposed to leave, but Delia was satisfied. I got the feeling that Ava wasn't happy, but you can't please everyone, right?

Once Carter and I left the others, we then had the tough decision of what we should do for the rest of the night. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, but as long as I was with Carter, I wasn't going to be too picky. Or so I thought.

"Why don't we head back to my hotel room? I just want to be with you tonight," he said, nuzzling my neck.

I instantly froze. Unfortunately, Carter noticed. "What? Don't you want to be with me?" he asked, pulling back and looking a bit offended.

"No, it's not like that. I'm just… I'm just not going to sleep with you after two weeks of knowing you. I'm not ready for that," I told him.

"But I'm leaving in the morning, and I don't know when I'll come back." Now his tone was a bit wheedling.

"Carter, I'm not going to sleep with you just because it's your last night in town," I said softly. "I'm not ready for that just yet. And if you can't accept that, well then, have a good flight in the morning." After that, I disentangled myself from his arms and started walking toward home.

I'd gone about five steps when arms went around my waist. "Okay, I won't push you. I'm sorry. You just really looked good in that dress. It's not fair to tease me like that," Carter laughed.

I turned around to face him. "Are you okay with waiting?"

"Not really, but if it's between waiting and losing you, I guess I have to be," he sighed. Then he kissed me quickly. "So what do you want to do for the rest of the night?"

We ended up at a comedy club, which wasn't that funny. The place was actually kind of grubby. I felt a bit dirty when we left, especially after all the looks that kept coming my way. But Carter kept his arm firmly around my shoulders, so I knew that he wouldn't let anything happen to me.

Around two o'clock, Carter took me home, but we took a while saying our goodbyes. So it was a teensy bit awkward when we heard Dad clearing his throat behind us, interrupting our kiss. Carter took that very unsubtle hint and told me, "I'll call you when I can. And I should be up to see you in about two weeks. You could come visit me, too."

"I'll try, but right now I can't. I can't leave Captain Rogers. At least not until he wakes up," I reminded.

"Yeah, that's right. Well, whenever you can, I will be more than happy to see you," he said, then kissed me again. "I'll miss you," he added in a whisper.

"I'll miss you, too." I was not looking forward to this separation at all. I wasn't sure how I was going to handle it, but I was very determined to not let Carter see how upset I really was.

Finally, Dad's scary "I can kill you with a piece of paper" look sent Carter to the elevator. I watched until the doors closed behind him, then Dad guided me into our apartment. I crumpled, but Dad's arms were already around me.

…

I slept like the dead after that, not even waking when Achilles cuddled his way into my arms. My phone going off around ten finally did, though. "Hello?" I croaked, not even awake enough to check the caller ID.

"Hey, get your butt over to Delia's. We're having brunch, then we're going shopping. She desperately needs a new wardrobe, and we are just the people to help her. Meet us at eleven," Ava ordered, then hung up before I even had the chance to comprehend what she'd said, let alone reply.

Groaning, I crawled out of bed with the grace of a zombie, then headed to the shower. Sadly, even that only partially woke me up. Still in my zombie-like state, I managed to throw together an outfit that was suitable for shopping. Achilles kept jumping around my feet, making me almost trip over him. I felt bad, partly because I had very nearly hurt him, but mostly because I'd sort of ignored him for the past two weeks. Then I had an idea.

"Can I bring Achilles over?" I texted Delia, knowing that she would most probably say yes. And she did. "Of course you can! He's so cute and tiny!" was her gushing response.

"Come on, buddy. You get to go out with the girls today. You are one lucky boy, yes, you are!" I told him, in a rather babyish tone of voice. His ears perked up, and his tail was wagging so hard, I was almost afraid it would fall off.

So, once I got myself ready, I snapped his leash onto his collar and headed out of my room. Dad was sitting in the living room, reading the paper with a cup of tea in his hand. "Where are you going looking like that so early on a Saturday?" he asked, very curious.

"My presence is required by Delia and Ava," I replied. "And I was afraid that if I didn't go, they just might come and drag me out in my pajamas."

"Well, have fun. And take care of Roxie," he added, just as I opened the front door.

"How did you know I was planning on taking Roxie?" I asked in astonishment.

"Please. I'm your father and a spy. You should know better than to ask me things like that by now."

I had to admit that he was right, so I merely waved and left the apartment. Achilles was so excited to leave that he practically dragged me to the elevator. But when we exited it in the underground parking garage, he was very confused. And a bit scared. It was adorable. The poor puppy had never been down there, since I rarely drove anywhere in the city, and it was awfully different than anything he'd ever seen.

Eventually, I had to pick him up, because he refused to move away from the elevator. Once again, I was grateful that Dad had picked a small breed for me. I walked over to our apartment's designated parking spaces, and easily the two most expensive cars in the whole garage. Dad had a weird thing for Corvettes, and he had somehow managed to get two 1962 models after some kind of SHIELD raid. Well, he got the first one, and then got the second one for me when I showed an interest. After he had given me Roxie, which had been fitted with a few SHIELD tricks, Dad never let me drive Lola again.

I got Achilles settled, even buckled him in, since I knew how bad New York traffic could get. He was surprisingly patient through the whole process. But once we got going, he started yipping in happiness. And then howling along with the radio. It really was the cutest thing ever. And when I parked in front of Delia's building, I realized that I was completely awake. "Thanks, buddy," I told him, cuddling my face into his fur for a moment. He licked my nose in reply.

Delia buzzed me in, then had the door to her apartment wide open when I got there. "I'm so glad you're here!" she said, giving me a hug. "And you, too, Achilles! You are the cutest little thing ever!" She took Achilles from me without even seeming to notice.

Ava was already there, flipping some crepes and looking utterly fabulous, as per usual. "Hey, how many crepes do you guys want?" she called across the tiny apartment.

"All of them," I replied, realizing that, now that I was really awake, I was starving.

"I get a few!" Delia protested. "It's my kitchen, after all."

"And I definitely get some, since I'm making them," Ava added. "By the way, if your dog goes missing, don't come looking for him at my place. He's so freaking adorable."

Once Delia was done greeting my puppy, she and I started cutting fruit, whipping cream, and finding anything else that looked good for our crepes. And when we finally tasted them, it was like heaven in my mouth. "Oh. My. Holy. Crap. These are delicktable," Delia moaned.

Ava and I both choked at that, since we'd both just gotten a forkful in our mouths. "Delicktable?" Ava snorted, once she got past the food caught in her throat.

"Well, I started to say delicious, and then delectable wanted to come out, so it came out as delicktable," Delia grinned, slightly self-consciously.

"Well, they are rather lickable," I joked, "so it totally works!"

The rest of the meal passed in similar hijinks. I hadn't laughed so hard in a while. Or eaten that much in one sitting. But the moment we were all done eating, it was all business. "Okay, we need to go through your wardrobe, honey," Ava told Delia bluntly. "Now that we can actually wear real clothes and not just work out clothes to work, we desperately need to help you."

Delia looked a bit glum. "Yeah, I need your help. I thought I had a good sense of fashion, but then I moved here. I guess small-town Illinois doesn't cut it in New York."

"But that's why you've got two native New Yorkers to help you," I assured. "We'll see what you've got, then help you get some more. And I brought my car, which makes the shopping thing a bit easier."

When Delia led us to her closet, it was like walking into Barbie's Dreamhouse. There was so much pink that it made my eyes hurt. "Okay, first rule, you don't have to have pink everything," Ava sighed.

"But it's my signature color. It makes me feel feminine," Delia replied in a small voice.

"You can be feminine without pink throwing up on you," Ava countered.

"And I'm sorry, honey, but most shades of pink are not going to go with your coloring," I added, feeling like a jerk. But I was trying to help her. And then I had an idea. "How do you feel about purple?"

"I like it," Delia said slowly. "But I don't know if I can pull it off."

"Try this," Ava said, whipping off the scarf she had around her neck. And before poor Delia could even react, Ava had it looped over her head. "I think you could totally pull off purple," Ava said judiciously. "Just don't go overboard with it."

It took a while, but we managed to cull Delia's closet of most of the pink. At least, all of the crazy cat lady pink. She did have some really cute things hidden in there. She just didn't have any idea of how to put them together to create an outfit.

Once we were done, there was a huge pile on the floor of things to take to the thrift store. And Achilles was asleep on top. "Oh my goodness, he's so precious!" Delia cooed.

"And really well trained," Ava observed.

"Thankfully, Dad trained him before he gave him to me," I replied. "Apparently, Dad is a really good dog trainer. But he's had enough practice with Clint, I guess."

"You mean Agent Barton? He's really cute," Ava said contemplatively.

"Don't go there," I warned. "Not only is he a pain in the butt, but Tasha would kill you."

"Are they together?" Delia asked, looking eager for some good office gossip.

I hesitated. They'd asked me not to say anything, and here I'd stepped into it haphazardly because I wasn't watching my mouth. Thankfully, Ava caught onto my dilemma. "Eh, don't worry about it. I don't think I want to date a fellow agent, anyway. Can you imagine if you did, then broke up? How awkward would that be if you ever had to work on a mission together?"

"That happens more than you'd think," I said, giggling in remembrance. "Dad told me about one couple who ended up yelling at each other during a firefight. The whole team found out about his preference for Batman underwear."

Eventually, we stopped laughing enough to go shopping. Both girls about died when they saw my car. "This is yours?" Delia squeaked.

"Yeah, Dad got Roxie and his car, Lola, in some kind of raid. And since he's one of SHIELD's most senior agents, no one argued when he asked for them," I smiled.

"Aren't you afraid someone's going to steal it? I mean, this is New York, after all," Ava said skeptically.

"Well, I rarely drive her, so she's normally in the garage, and she's got some awesome anti-theft features, courtesy of SHIELD," I replied.

"Like what?" I could tell Delia's inner techie was working overtime, trying to come up with ideas.

"Like if someone other than my dad or myself touches her first, she screams like a little girl," I said, unlocking the door.

Both of them looked rather apprehensively at my car. "It's okay, you can get in now," I assured. "I just have to be the first one to touch her, that's all."

I slid behind the wheel, while Ava gestured for Delia to get in first. Technically, my car was a two-seater, but we all managed to fit. "I'm really glad none of us are fatties," Ava said as she closed the door.

"Sorry, girls. This is the only car I have, and I figured it would be better than trying to carry a ton of bags around and stuffing them in a cab. And then forgetting something," I replied. "And Roxie has a pretty good trunk."

"She's gonna have some junk in her trunk," Ava muttered. Then we all burst out laughing again.

I had more fun that day than I'd had in a very long time. Definitely since before med school. We found so many clothes for Delia, making sure she had outfits, and not just clothes. Her signature color would be purple, but we emphasized that didn't mean she could only wear purple. We found her purple tops, skirts, shoes, and accessories. Enough that she could always wear something purple, but didn't look like a walking plum.

We also made sure to find her things in every other color under the sun, and in fun prints. When Ava found an awesome leopard print top, it took a bit of convincing for her to try it on, but once she did, she didn't want to take it off. "I love it!" she squealed.

After four hours of shopping, Ava and I were sitting in the chairs outside Delia's dressing room, being the audience for her personal runway show. As she changed from one outfit to the next, I turned to Ava. "Thanks for doing this. I know it wasn't just for Delia."

"Well, I figured you needed to do something other than mope over the fact that your new boyfriend just left for who knows how long. And you can't tell me shopping isn't more therapeutic than eating ice cream and Netflixing," she said, bumping her shoulder into mine. I didn't say anything, just bumped her back.

So this is what it feels like, I thought. To have girlfriends who like to do normal things, instead of spy stuff. It's kinda nice.

**AN: I am so sorry it took so long for this chapter. I had such a hard time writing Carter, it was like pulling teeth. I promise that it will never take me more than a week to update from now on. Especially now that we are getting to a very fun part. At least for me.**

**On another note, thanks to all the favorites/follows/reviews. It means so much to me. And thanks to DeadlyThorn1997 andangelmusiclove98, there will be a few oneshots taking place before this story. The first one will be Emily meeting Phil. It's coming along slowly, but it will happen.**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Everything you recognize belongs to MCU. Anything else belongs to me.**

Chapter 11

The summer seemed to slip by before I could really notice. One minute it was the Fourth of July (Happy birthday, Captain Rogers), then I blinked, and it was Labor Day. My team and I were finally able to stop bundling up for work, as Captain Rogers' temperature had, at last, risen over 80°. Of course, by this time fall had arrived in New York, so I was starting to need a coat to get to work. I didn't mind, however, since I knew that I was helping someone else, someone who had given so much to their country. And even though we had no scientific data to suggest that he would wake up, I was going to do everything I could to help him do so.

The second week of September brought a new change, one that I was not a fan of, at all. I walked into the observation room that Monday, and there was a woman, probably in her late thirties, that I'd never seen ordering my team around. "Excuse me, but who are you, and who gave you permission to give my team orders?"

Everyone instantly stopped. I could tell that most of my team members were glad to see me. I'd won their respect after the incident with General Ross, and they knew that I would do anything for them, and for the Captain. But they were also tense, like they were waiting for a showdown of some sort.

The unknown woman looked at me, dismissing me with that look. "I am Dr. Atkins, Captain Rogers' psychiatrist. You must be Dr. Coulson," she said, not even giving me the courtesy of looking at me while she spoke. Instead, she merely looked at her clipboard like it contained the mysteries of the world.

"Yes, I am. It's nice of you to finally show up," I said, not even bothering to hide my irritation.

"I was helping a very damaged patient," she snapped, finally looking up at me, fire in her gaze. "And since Captain Rogers didn't need me, as he is still unconscious, Director Fury decided that I should stay where I was, for the time being."

And now you're here just in time for the glory, I thought bitterly. I had to pull myself together a bit before I could say, "Well, I need to check on the Captain. If you'll excuse me." Then I left before she could excuse me or not.

I started in on my usual routine, checking the Captain's temperature and other vitals, and reading over the reports from the weekend. Amanda, one of my nurses, came in to change an IV bag. With her back to the window, she whispered, "I'm so glad you're here. Dragon Lady has some crazy insane ideas. And she's ordering us around like we're some kind of army, and she's the Supreme Commander."

I snorted back a laugh. "Well, I'll try to keep her Imperial Highness from hurting anyone," I promised. Including Captain Rogers, I added silently.

I didn't realize it then, but Amanda was right. Dr. Atkins had some insane ideas, and when I found out about one of them a few days later, I exploded. "You cannot do this!" I screamed. "This is a terrible idea!"

"Who is the psychiatrist here, Dr. Coulson? I'm sure you took some psych classes in med school, everyone does, but who is the one who has devoted her life to it? That's right, it's me. Not you. So I will stay out of your way with the medical side, if you will kindly stay out of the mental side," she said snidely.

"I won't let you get away with this," I said, so mad I was shaking.

"Oh, but I already have. I passed this by Director Fury weeks ago. I'm just surprised that it's taken this long to get it started." She then turned on her heel and walked away.

I knew that I was the only one willing to stand up to Dr. Atkins, so I would be the one who had to deal with this. That's how I found myself in the elevator, waiting impatiently as it crawled its way to Director Fury's office. When it finally stopped on the correct floor, I practically burst out of it, scaring his secretary. "What can I do for you, Dr. Coulson?" she asked kindly, once her heart rate went back down a bit.

"I need to see the Director. Immediately. It's incredibly urgent," I pleaded.

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear, but he's on a very important mission and won't be back for several weeks," she said apologetically.

I was floored. "But… But I need to talk to him," I said slowly, not quite comprehending her words.

"I'm terribly sorry, but that's just not possible. If it's something important, you could always talk to either your father or Agent Hill. They are sharing temporary Directorship while Director Fury is away."

I nodded, then walked away. Then I did what every girl would do. I headed down for a chat with my daddy.

Once I got to Omega Team's offices, I noticed that it was rather quiet. "Dad?" I called, not seeing anyone.

"Emily? What are you doing up here?" he asked, coming from the break room area. Then, he saw my face and quickly asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's Dr. Atkins. She wants to make a whole room for Captain Rogers, one that looks what he would have woken up in if he was still back in the 40s. It's a horrible idea, Dad! If one little thing is off, he's going to think that he's been captured by HYDRA or something! And Director Fury is gone, so I can't talk to him about it, and anyway, he's already signed off on it, and it's horrible! It's going to be like that one story I read in school about this poor soldier who wakes up in a French prison camp, but they try to make him think it's a hospital in England. It's going to hurt Captain Rogers so badly!" I spewed words like, if I could get them out faster, somehow Dad would be able to fix it faster.

He looked horrified. "She's a psychiatrist, and she thinks that's a good idea?"

"Yeah, I'm beginning to think she got her degree from the Internet," I grumbled. "Is there anything you can do about this?"

Dad sighed. "I don't think so, Sweetheart. I can't override anything the Director personally signed off on, and he's in a top secret mission. Hopefully, he'll be back before Captain Rogers wakes up, but until then, there's not much I can do about it. I'm sorry, Em."

I was so used to the fact that my dad could fix any problem that the fact that he couldn't fix this one rocked me. It took me a few moments to really process what he'd said. Finally, I snapped out of it a bit. "Then, what do I do? How can I protect my patient?" I asked softly, looking to him for answers like I'd always done.

"I don't know," he confessed, taking me into his arms.

…

In the end, I had to go along with Dr. Atkins' plans, even if I didn't like it. She had a room built and decorated to look like a recovery room from the 1940s. There were fake windows with skyline props, traffic sound effects, and even had sports games playing constantly from that time period. I had to admit, she didn't do anything by halves. She even had an SSR shirt made for the Captain to wear, so he'd think that he was back with his old friends. When I pointed out that it would make it that much worse when he realized they were all dead, she pretended not to hear me.

Claire, the one nurse who seemed to hate me no matter what I did, unsurprisingly got along really well with Dr. Atkins. When the doctor asked for someone to volunteer to be dressed as a nurse in period clothes, she was the first to volunteer. In fact, she was the only one to volunteer. Everyone else thought, like me, that this was a terrible idea and would only end up hurting the Captain.

Two weeks after Dr. Atkins' arrival, the room was finally ready. And just in time, too. Captain Rogers was out of the cryogenic state at last, and now he was simply in a coma. No one could say when he would wake up, or if he would, but I couldn't help but feel hopeful. I started staying later and coming in earlier, just so I could keep an eye on him. After all he'd been through, it was the least I could do to make sure he was alright. And after two weeks of him being in his coma, his brain activity started increasing.

By October, I was practically living in my office at SHIELD, grabbing catnaps here and there, living on vending machine energy drinks and candy bars. I couldn't leave Captain Rogers, even if I was just in the observation room. Dr. Atkins had decreed that anyone not in period clothes was not allowed in Captain Rogers' room. And she'd refused to let me in at all, stating that Captain Rogers wouldn't believe that a woman was a doctor. But since she left every evening at five on the dot, I often sneaked in, just to give the Captain some company.

That was where Dad found me one night, asleep in the chair next to Captain Roger's bed, holding his hand to give him some human contact. "Em, come on, you need to get some sleep," he whispered, trying to get me up.

"I just got some," I protested sleepily. "I'm good."

"No, you're not. You're going to land yourself in a bed in Med Bay the way you're going," he said firmly. "You need to get some sleep. And some real food. You've lost a good fifteen pounds, and you didn't have them to lose."

"I'm fine. I'll sleep when he wakes up," I said, then was contradicted by the yawn that broke free.

"Come on. Go sleep in my office. Barton and Romanoff are both on missions, so no one will bother you. I'll stay here and let you know immediately if anything changes," Dad promised.

"But- But I can't-" I started.

"Yes, you can. You won't do Captain Rogers any good if you make yourself sick from exhaustion. You need sleep. And real food. And besides, how can you deny me the opportunity to watch over my childhood idol?" He gave me a look that was partly pleading, partly sternly insisting, and partly childish excitement.

I couldn't argue anymore, in part because my eyes kept closing on their own accord. "Okay," I said, getting up. "But if he so much as twitches, I want to know about it that second."

"Of course, Dr. Coulson," he grinned, kissing my forehead. "Now, get some sleep, Em."

I ended up sleeping for six hours, which was the most I'd done at one time since we'd moved Captain Rogers to his new room. It was probably about the amount I was averaging a week, actually. And when I woke up, there was a fabulous breakfast waiting for me, delivered by one of Dad's underlings. He really was the best dad ever.

…

Dad continued to send me to his office for naps here and there over the next few weeks. Even Dr. Atkins eventually commented on my late hours. "It's not like you're going to get overtime," she snarked.

I gave it right back to her. "It's not like you could finally get published with this. Because really, who would believe anything about a World War II veteran being frozen for seventy years and then waking up? Are you going to try the amnesia angle? 'Cause I really don't think that will work. Or that Director Fury would let you publish it, anyway."

The look on her face told me that was exactly what she had planned on doing. I did feel a slight twinge of satisfaction from upsetting her plans, but mostly, I was just angry. "How dare you? This man is a soldier, one who dedicated his life to serving his country. Now, we probably would have still won the war without him, but it sure would have taken a lot more time and lives that way. So he deserves more than to be used to advance your career. He deserves your respect and gratitude. He is a hero, and he will be treated as such."

Every day had brought some new argument with Dr. Atkins, but this was the one that really got to me the most. Who did she think she was? She was thinking of Captain Rogers as something to be used, like a some kind of tool. He was so much more than that. He was a hero, as the countless men whose lives he'd saved could attest. But not only that, he was a good man. Everything I'd read about him (and admittedly, that was a lot) said that he had never wavered from what he believed, always doing the right thing no matter the consequences. He had risked his life and his career to save his best friend. And he had taken down the HYDRA base with only a handful of others to help him. Captain Rogers was the best example of what America had stood for so long ago. And Atkins was merely using him to boost her up a rung on her career ladder.

"I'll be sad to leave when the Captain wakes up," Amanda told me later that day while we were going over his old medical records again. "But I will not miss Supreme Commander at all."

"I agree. I just don't know how long I'll be working with her, even after Captain Rogers wakes," I said. "I just want to help him, but I'm afraid she's going to do more harm than help."

"We all agree with you. Still, I could stare at this sight for the rest of my life,"she sighed.

I privately agreed. The Captain was certainly one of the best looking men I'd ever seen. His blond hair, which strangely hadn't grown much over the time he'd been with us, was laying perfectly in its 40s style. And his body was like someone had carved it out of marble to please every woman under the sun. His arms were literally bigger around than my thighs. His chest, which I'd enjoyed seeing while he was being changed, would put Michelangelo's statue to shame. All in all, he would probably be my best looking patient. Ever.

…

Eight weeks. Two whole months. That's how long it had been since Captain Rogers had officially been out of his cryogenic state. That's how long it had been since he'd merely been in a coma. Sadly, after the first initial few spikes in brain activity, there was nothing. I knew there were many who were beginning to doubt that he's ever wake up. I knew that I would never give up, but there were several people on my team who'd asked to be transferred. "I just can't take it anymore," Amanda told me tearfully. "I can't keep looking at his perfect face, hoping that he'll wake up, and knowing that he might never do it."

"I understand. And I don't blame you at all," I assured her. "And once this is all over, I would be more than glad to have you on my team, anywhere, any time."

"Same here," she said with a smile. "The whole team feels that way. Well, except for Claire. And, sorry for giving you such a hard time when you first got here. You've definitely shown us all that you know what you're doing."

Soon after she left, Dad came down for a visit. "Hey, Em, how's he doing?"

"The same as always, I'm afraid," I sighed. Dad was the only one I'd told my worries to, about how I was afraid Captain Rogers might never wake up. He was the only one to know how many tears I'd cried that I might not be able to help him, be enough for him.

"He'll wake up. He's a fighter. And he has the best doctor in all of SHIELD looking after him. How can he not?"

We talked for a few minutes more, but I could tell Dad had something on his mind. "What is it, Dad? Spit it out," I teased.

"Barton and I have an assignment," he told me finally, like he was getting a load off his shoulders. "We'll be in New Mexico."

"New Mexico again? Does this have anything to do with Conan- I mean, Thor?"

"Yeah, we're taking a look at that metal robot thing that was sent to destroy him. I need to check up on the progress we're making there, and Barton is going for extra security."

"Well, have fun," I told him. "Eat lots of Mexican food, and make sure you bring some for me when you come back. When are you coming back?" I asked, suddenly feeling like I knew why he'd been apprehensive about telling me.

"That's the thing. I'm not sure when I'll be back, and Barton will be there for the foreseeable future," Dad said slowly.

"You mean you won't be here for the holidays," I said, finally getting it.

"Most probably not. I'm sorry, Em," he told me softly.

"It's okay. It's not like you're doing it on purpose," I said glumly. Then I perked up. "Maybe Captain Rogers will be awake by then and I can come visit you guys."

"That would be wonderful," he told me.

Once Dad and Clint left, and since Tasha was on a mission, as well, it was weird to go to their offices. So I went back to curling up on the chair next to Captain Rogers' bed, trying to keep him company. At least while Atkins was gone. When she was there, I had to stay in the observation room. With the lack of sleep and the stress of him not waking up combined, I had a harder and harder time not yelling at her every time she opened her mouth. A few days after Dad left, I decided that I'd better leave before I said something, or did something, I might regret later, so I went to get a granola bar from the vending machine.

"You'd think that SHIELD could afford some better machines," I grumbled when the bar I'd ordered got stuck. I banged on it, trying to shake it loose, even kicked it. It felt nice to let my frustrations out on something, even if it was simply a vending machine. Finally, after a particularly violent shake, my granola bar fell down to the bottom. "Success!" I said triumphantly, ripping it open. But before I could take a bite, I heard Claire's voice resounding through the building. "All agents, code thirteen. I repeat, all agents, code thirteen."

**AN: Here's a quick update for you guys! The next chapter is going to be a bit difficult to write, dealing with Steve waking up and everything, but it will be out by next Sunday. I promise!**

**I'd like to thank all of you for reading this, and especially all who've reviewed/favorited/followed. I love hearing back from you! Particularly favorite quotes. They make my day!**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Once again, it all belongs to the MCU. I just like to play in their world.**

Chapter 12

My granola bar forgotten, I took off running back toward the Captain's room. I knew what a Code Thirteen was, even if I wasn't an agent. That meant that Captain Rogers woke up and, surprisingly, reacted badly. I didn't know how badly it had gone, but for a Code Thirteen, it had to be pretty bad.

Once I got there, I realized just how badly it had gone. There was a huge hole in one of the walls, and two agents were sitting on the ground, being treated by two of my team. I immediately walked over. "What happened, Jason?" I asked the first person I got to.

"Well, the Captain woke up, and Claire," here he inserted so much sarcasm, the word practically came out swimming, "went in, just like she practiced. But the Captain knew something was off. He'd actually been to the game that was playing. So, he understandably freaked out, Claire panicked and sent in two agents, Cap threw them through the wall, and then he took off running. Agents are trying to track him down, now."

Oh, my gosh. That poor man. I was so stunned, thinking about what must be going through his mind. I only hoped that when someone actually caught up with him, he wouldn't be hurt. Or hurt anyone else.

Just then, Dr. Atkins walked through the door with wide eyes. "Are you happy now, Atkins? Are you satisfied that you just scarred the poor man?"

She turned toward me with a haunted look. "No, Dr. Coulson. No, I'm not happy." Then, she turned back and left the room.

I felt guilty. She was clearly feeling bad about the whole thing, and I took my anger out on her. I tried to get up the courage, and humility, to apologize. Five minutes later, I was still trying, but my phone going off distracted me. It was Maria.

"Agent Hill?" I asked, going for formal, since I was at work.

"Dr. Coulson, Director Fury will be bringing Captain Rogers back to headquarters. He will escort him to Med Bay, back to his old private room. The Director would like for you to help the Captain catch up to the twenty-first century," Maria informed me.

"What about Dr. Atkins? Will she still be working with the Captain?"

"No. She has been transferred. Captain Rogers will now be solely in your care. Can you handle this, Dr. Coulson?"

There was no mistaking the expectant challenge in her voice, so I gave the only appropriate answer. "Of course, Agent Hill. I'll be waiting for the Captain in his room."

"That's my girl," she said softly, before hanging up abruptly. Someone must have walked in the room and overheard her, I mused with a bit of a smile.

Walking back to the old room, I worried quite a lot. How was I going to help Captain Rogers? I was most definitely not trained for this. But then I realized three things. First off, no one could possibly train for a World War II vet waking up after being frozen for seventy years. And two, I had taken several courses on treating people with possible Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, since I'd known I would most definitely be working with agents straight off missions. I could actually use some of what I'd learned to help him. And the third thing was simple. I could be his friend. Everyone needs a friend, especially in hard times. And he was facing some really hard times ahead.

By the time Director Fury escorted Captain Rogers back to his room, I had mentally prepared a list of what I needed to do. But seeing the man I'd been taking care of for months finally walking totally threw me off. And a hospital bed cannot prepare a girl for the sight of a fully conscious, upright Captain America. He had to be at least six feet tall, and had the most astonishing blue eyes I'd ever seen. Sadly, I was a bit dumbstruck.

Thankfully, Director Fury had it well in hand. "Captain Rogers, meet Dr. Coulson. She's been your doctor for the whole time you've been with us, and she's going to take good care of you now that you're awake."

"She's not the one-" Captain Rogers left the question dangling, but we all knew what he'd meant.

"No, that was Dr. Atkins. She has received a new assignment, and will be leaving within the hour to catch her flight to L.A.," the Director said. If I hadn't had so many dealings with him, I would have missed the well-disguised anger in his voice.

The Captain's relief was palpable. "Well, Dr. Coulson, thank you for taking such good care of me. It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

He really was adorable. "The pleasure is all mine, Captain Rogers. After all, how many other doctors can say they've treated a superhero?" I teased gently.

He blushed. "I wouldn't say I'm a superhero. And please, call me Steve."

"Well, in that case, you must call me Emily. After all, it's ridiculous to call someone doctor who's younger than you." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I froze. How could I be so stupid? Here he was, fresh out of his coma, and here I was, cracking jokes about his old age. Stupid, Emily!

However, he smiled. "You do seem pretty young for a doctor. And there weren't too many women who were doctors when… when I went to sleep."

I breathed a little easier. "Well, I'm kinda stubborn and determined, so I made it through med school a bit earlier than most."

Fury choked, sounding like he was swallowing a laugh. "She gets those traits from her father, one of our best agents. I'm sure you'll meet Agent Coulson one of these days. Now, I assure you, Captain Rogers, that you are in more than capable hands. I have other things I need to see to, but please let me know if you need anything."

He aimed that at both Captain Rogers and me, and once we'd both nodded, he left. Captain Rogers then looked to me. "So… what happens now?" he asked quietly.

I could sense the underlying worry in his question, but since I wasn't sure still, I took him at face value. "Well, first off, we need to do a few tests. I'll draw some blood, listen to your heart and lungs, check your reflexes, things like that. We have to make sure everything is working correctly, now that you're awake."

The Captain, or Steve, as he requested I call him (so weird), was perfectly stoic as I drew some blood to test later. He blushed though, when I put my hand on his chest or back for balance while I listened to his heart and lungs. He even blushed when I simply touched his knee before checking his reflex. It was adorable, but it also, for some strange reason, made me blush. His awkwardness around me made me more awkward than normal. And that's saying something.

We eventually made it through without either of us spontaneously combusting from blushing. Once I noted the last bit of information in his chart, I turned to him. "I'm guessing that you're pretty hungry. It is dinner time, and I know that your metabolism is about five times faster than most. So, let me show you to the canteen and we can grab some dinner."

The look on his face told me I'd had the right idea. We got our food, and, with everyone else studiously avoiding our table, we had a slightly awkward dinner. After having fourths of everything, Steve was finally done. "Would you like me to show you around headquarters?" I asked him, not really sure what to do.

"Um, that would be swell," he said nervously, obviously seeing all the sideways looks he'd been getting.

I couldn't help the grin that made its way out at his choice of words. "Okay, well, let's blow this popsicle stand," I said, standing and reaching for my tray.

But he grabbed it before I could get it. "I've got it," he said quickly, before gesturing for me to lead the way. I did, but every time we got to a door, he would somehow manage to get in front to open it for me. It was really sweet.

"And now I'll show you my favorite spot in the whole place," I told him, after leading him through the enitire building (or at least what he had clearance for).

I could see the perplexed look on his face as he tried to figure out what my favorite room would be. But I merely grinned and threw open the door to Omega Team's training room. He walked in with an awed look on his face. There were targets of every imaginable size and shape littering one wall. A boxing ring stood in one corner, with several punching bags hanging next to it, and posters of boxing greats on the walls. Weight sets were stacked neatly next to several elliptical machines. And one whole corner was covered in mats, which were used for both wrestling and yoga. There were climbing ropes hanging from the ceiling, and a small climbing wall. Anything and everything that was used for exercise and strength training was in that room.

"This is your favorite place in SHIELD?" Steve asked incredulously, after giving the room its due.

"Yep," I answered, grinning. "This belongs to my dad's team, and I've spent so many hours in here. This is where Dad taught me to shoot a gun, Clint taught me archery, and Tasha taught me self-defense. Right over there is where I broke my arm when I was fifteen, trying to do a backflip-kick thing. In that corner is a small blood stain from where I finally managed to get a knife away from Clint. Don't worry; it's his. And over there is where Tasha and Maria gave me a talking to about, well, about being a girl. If walls could talk, this room could give most of my life story."

Steve looked rather interested, but I wasn't really keen to go into more details. "So, if you'd like, you are more than welcome to use this room anytime you want," I told him.

"Really? I'm allowed?" He looked happy at the idea, but holding back in case something happened.

"Of course!" I replied. "I'm an honorary member of Omega Team, and besides, it's not like any of them are going to be using it anytime soon. Tasha's in Russia right now, I think, and Dad and Clint are in New Mexico for the foreseeable future. So you might as well use it."

"Gee, that would be really swell," he said, very pleased.

Once again, I had to try not to laugh at his vocabulary. It was adorable, but I didn't think he would take it that way. Instead, I watched, rather fascinated, as he headed over to the boxing area and immediately started wrapping his hands. It was like he had forgotten I was even there. So I did what any reasonable girl would do when a very attractive man started using a punching bag. I merely sat back and enjoyed the show.

For a while anyway. After a few minutes, I felt a bit pervy, so I slipped into the small dressing room next door and changed into some yoga pants, a short-sleeve top, and some tennis shoes. After all, a pencil skirt, sweater and kitten heels were not the most convenient wear for exercise.

After I changed, I began my usual warm-up of about ten minutes of yoga. Or at least it had been my usual before I started spending all my time worrying over a comatose man. Then, I headed over to the ellipticals and ran for half an hour or so. Since I was a bit out of shape, I was rather out of breath when I was done. But it felt good after so long of not doing anything more physical than walking from one floor of the building to another.

I looked up and saw Steve still pounding away at the punching bag. From the look on his face, I could tell he was somewhere very far away. "Hey, soldier," I said, trying to give him something else to think about. "Why don't you try something that'll hit back?"

"You?" he asked in astonishment. At my nod, he quickly shook his head. "I can't- I mean, I couldn't fight a woman."

"Oh, c'mon," I laughed. "It's not like we'd be really fighting. And besides, I can take care of myself. I've been trained by SHIELD's best assassin, who happens to be a woman."

After much cajoling, Steve warily joined me in the boxing ring. "By the way," I warned him. "I don't play fair." And then I suddenly tossed a punch his way.

He dodged it, but just barely. And before he could recover, I kicked out, aiming to swipe his legs out from underneath him. He jumped at the last second, but still stumbled back against the ropes. I kept coming, never really giving him a chance to rest. "The best defense is a good offense," Natasha's voice sounded in my head, reminding me of the many hours we'd spent sparring.

After a few minutes, Steve realized that I really did know what I was doing, so he started fighting back. He was definitely pulling his punches, thankfully, but he was still fighting back. Sure, I ended up very sore, but it felt so good to be doing this again. I never wanted to be out in the field, but I knew that if I ever had to do it, I could hold my own.

Eventually, I had to stop. "Man, Tasha would kick my butt if she saw how out of shape I am," I panted, practically collapsed on the ropes.

Steve started at my language, then shook his head. "I've never seen a woman fight like that. Or even very many men, for that matter."

"You haven't seen Natasha fight," I grinned. "It's like this beautiful, graceful, and very deadly ballet. In fact, she actually is a trained ballerina. And Agent May, another agent, is amazing, as well. She used to have this graceful, kung fu-ness that was just breathtaking to see. I loved watching her practice when I was younger. I've learned a lot from her, from both of them."

"Is it normal for SHIELD agents to have their children watching other agents train?" Steve asked, rather concerned.

"No, not really," I laughed. "But since Dad is a single parent, he didn't really have much choice but to bring me along. Once I found out the truth about SHIELD, anyway. And so my teenage years were a bit different from most. Any time Dad would have to go out with his team, I would stay with Agent May or Agent Hill. And even if he was here in New York, he had to spend a lot of time here at work, so he would bring me with. I would do my schoolwork in the little office over there, and once I was done, Clint and/or Tasha would train me. So, thanks to the combined efforts of several people, I am proficient in most any weapon you could chose. Except for swords. For some reason, Dad never trusted Clint enough to teach me swordplay."

Steve's face was incredulous. "You certainly have me beat for most interesting childhood," he muttered.

Inwardly, I groaned. You don't even know the half of it. "Well, when your dad is a high-ranking agent in a top-secret government agency, you tend to have unusual stories to tell. That is, when those stories aren't classified."

He laughed, just like I'd intended. "You are a very interesting dame, Emily Coulson. I think I like you."

I blushed. After all, it's not every day you get complimented by Captain America. And he called me a dame. How cute was that? "Well, shucks, Captain. What's a girl to do with a flatterer like you?"

It was Steve's turn to blush. "I don't want you to think I was just feeding you a line, or anything-" he said, ridiculously adorable in his agitated state.

I laughed again. "I'm just teasing you," I told him. "But you know, I think we're going to get along fabulously."

He grinned. "I've never been able to talk to a dame the way I have with you, so yeah, I think we'll be grand."

Did he just friendzone me? I asked myself, then mentally slapped myself. You have a boyfriend, remember? Tall, dark, and Carter? Remember him? After giving myself that needed mental shake, I replied, "Well, I'm not usually very good at connecting with people right away, either, so we can be awkward together."

Suddenly, a huge yawn ripped its way across my face. A look at the clock on the wall told me it was nearly nine o'clock. "We've been down here for three hours?" I asked in disbelief. "That can't be right."

"It is," Steve said with a smile. "We've been down here since six."

"Oh, holy hippos, I'm sorry to keep you so late," I apologize.

Once again, he looked at me strangely for my wording, but politely kept the conversation going. "It's not a bad thing," he told me. "In fact, I'm a bit glad that I had something to think about. It's been nice to keep my mind off… well, off other things."

"Well, I have to get home before I fall over from exhaustion. I'm actually going to sleep in my bed tonight!" I exulted. Then, at Steve's very mortified face, I hurried to clarify. "I've been staying here most nights, so I could keep an eye on you. I didn't want you waking up and then something go wrong. Of course, that happened anyway, and I'm terribly sorry for that."

"Hey, it wasn't your fault, right? Director Fury said it was some other doctor who decided to do that. So you have nothing to be sorry for."

He seemed so sincere, but I still felt terrible. But unfortunately, I couldn't change the past. "Well, anyway, I will see you in the morning. And you should get some sleep, get yourself back in a normal routine."

"I doubt I could sleep now," Steve said with a sad smile. "I've done enough of that to last me a while."

"As a doctor, I'll tell you that you really should at least try to sleep. As a human being, I'll tell you that you now know where the library is, just in case you can't sleep," I told him gently. Then, I changed subjects for him. "Would you like to share breakfast with me? Tomorrow should be Belgian waffles down in the canteen."

He gave me a much happier grin. "That sounds wonderful."

"Great. Does seven-thirty work for you?"

"I think I can make that," he said, still smiling.

"Okay, great. Then it's a date," I said, before heading to grab my other clothes. I turned too quickly to see how my words effected him, causing his smile to instantly fall. I left too quickly to see his shoulders drop and his hands ball into fists. I didn't see him turn back to the punching bag, slamming his fists into it like it had done Steve a personal wrong. And I definitely didn't see him staying there, all night long, pouring his grief and pain into punching bag after punching bag, going through seven that first night.

**AN: So here it is at last! Emily gets to meet Steve. And I even got it out on time (barely). Thanks to all who've reviewed/favorited/followed. It honestly makes my day when I get them. And they do encourage me to write faster. Not that I'm bribing you at all :) Anyway, the next chapter will be out by next Sunday. Thanks again for reading!**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: I merely own Emily, Achilles, and the plot not directly stolen from MCU. BTW there will be some mention of sensitive topics in this chapter.**

Chapter 13

Once I got home, I only paused in my journey to my bed to sleepily pour some food into Achilles' bowl. And when I got to my room, I didn't remember anything until my alarm went off at six the next morning. Achilles and I both groaned as "Call Me Maybe" rang through the room. And even after I'd turned the alarm off, it still was stuck in my head. But even with Carly Rae Jepson belting it out in my head, I was amazed at myself. It seemed like, while I slept, my brain outlined a whole plan to help Steve.

Apparently, all I needed was to sleep in my own bed, with my dog under my arm, to be able to get those synapses firing. "I should try this more often," I told Achilles, and he yipped in agreement.

By seven, I was ready and running to catch the elevator. I waved at Harold on my way out, then flagged down a cab. Even though it was early, traffic was still pretty bad. But then again, it was New York City, known world-wide for its crazy traffic at all hours of the day. I took advantage of the trip to shoot a quick text to Dad, letting him know that Steve had finally woken up. After all, Captain America's biggest fan should know, right?

The cabbie dropped me off a block from SHIELD, since it wasn't very smart to show someone the way to headquarters. Even if headquarters were disguised as any other skyscraper. I headed to the canteen, making it there right at seven-thirty. As I pushed open the door, there was Steve, looking a bit uncomfortable at all the stares he was getting. "Really, people. He's not a sideshow," I said lowly as I passed a table of the worst offenders. They immediately dropped their gazes to their food, which was suddenly very interesting, apparently.

"Good morning, Steve," I chirped, still feeling very refreshed from an actual full night's sleep. "Have you eaten yet?"

He shook his head. "No, I was waiting for you," he said, once again the epitome of manners and courtesy.

"You are too adorable," I told him, then started to pull him over to the waiting food. I grinned when I looked back and saw him blushing again.

"Can we just have a whole ton to go?" I asked Candice, the amazing morning chef.

"Of course, Dr. Coulson. And whipped cream and fruit?" she asked, grinning. She knew my eating habits way too well, from my, admittedly random, visits while waiting for Steve to wake.

"You are a saint," I told her, taking the (huge) container from her, only to have Steve take them from me. Then, Candice grabbed a can of the squirty whipped cream and a whole tub of cut fruit, followed by a carton of orange juice, which he promptly took from me, as well.

"Enjoy!" she said, with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. This time, it was my turn to blush. Thankfully, Steve didn't seem to catch it.

Once we left the canteen, I headed to my office, with Steve following behind. "I thought we could go to my office, there'll be fewer people," I told him, trying to be thoughtful.

"Thank you," he breathed. "I was only in there a few minutes, but people were staring, and it was a bit uncomfortable."

"You don't like being the center of attention, do you?" I asked, trying to get a better sense of this man next to me.

"Not really," he admitted ruefully. "You'd think after all the war bond tours that I'd be used to it, but I'm not. And that wasn't ever really me. I was playing a character, someone else. It wasn't me, not really."

"Well, unfortunately, I can't make people stop staring, but I can keep us away from others for a while, if that helps."

When we got to my office, I rethought my idea of eating there. "I forgot how messy it is in here," I said, rather mortified. Since there had been days that I hadn't even gone home, I had changes of clothes strewn here and there around the room. Half-eaten granola bars and empty candy bar wrappers littered the floor, and, quickly counting, I had sixteen energy drink cans opened and half empty on my desk. "I swear I'm not normally like this," I said, turning to Steve apologetically.

He grinned. "It's okay. This is clean compared to some of the barracks I lived in. And not to mention some of the places I lived in with-" His face dropped as he cut himself off sharply.

"With Bucky?" I asked softly.

Immediately, Steve's head whipped up. "How do you know about Bucky?" he asked, almost angrily.

"Not only did I read everything I could about you so I could help you when you woke up, I also read a lot about the Howling Commandos in school. I did a history paper on James Buchanan Barnes, best friend to Captain America," I told him, smiling softly. "He was my hero, still is, in fact."

A tear ran down Steve's cheek, but he didn't even seem to notice. "He was my hero, too."

"Why don't you tell me about him while we eat? Talking does help, I promise," I suggested.

So that's how we spent the morning. We pushed aside all the clothes on my couch, and Steve told me all about their childhood, most of which seemed to entail Bucky saving Steve from one mishap or another. After three hours, Steve seemed to run out of steam, so I jumped in.

"I've been thinking. Not to rub salt in an open wound, or anything, but you've missed seventy years of history. I want to help you catch up with that, if you'd like. Events, music, movies, sports, culture, everything. Not that I know everything, of course, but I am a bit of a history buff. So, what do you think?" I asked nervously.

Steve looked me in the eye for what seemed like forever. When he finally spoke, it was simply one word. "Why?"

"Why what?" I had no idea what he meant. Why was I a history buff? Or why did I want to help?

"Why do you want to help me? I know Director Fury told you to, but you could give me a few history books, pat me on the head, and be off. Why do you want to help me like this?" He was very intense, and a little intimidating. And I knew he would see through whatever lie I came up with. There was only one thing I could do. Tell the truth.

"I've been alone in the world," I said quietly, not meeting his eyes. "I know what it's like to be on your own, not having anyone to turn to for help. And someone rescued me. From then on, I swore that I would never leave someone like that, not if I could do something for them."

I didn't notice the tear running down my own face until Steve brushed it off for me. I looked up at him and saw his compassion in his eyes. Stunned, I couldn't believe it. Here he was, waking up after seventy years and then finding out his entire world was gone, and he had compassion for me. He had to be the best person I'd ever met.

"Who was it?" he asked softly. "The one who rescued you?"

A smile quirked my lips a bit at the memory. "My dad." At his look of confusion, I made a split decision that changed my life completely, not that I knew it at the time.

"I don't know when my birthday is," I began. "I had to have been born at some point, obviously, but my life began, as far as any official document is concerned, on March 14, 1989, when I was dropped off on the steps of St. Patrick Cathedral. I was apparently screaming my head off, and the priest who found me said that I wouldn't stop crying. He tried rocking me, soothing me every way he could think of. He even tried several names on me, but I didn't stop crying. It wasn't until he mentioned that I reminded him of his little sister, Emily, that I stopped crying. So that's how I became known as Emily."

I paused to get a drink of my nearly forgotten juice, and looked at Steve. He was leaning forward, a slight wrinkle in his forehead, like he was really interesting in hearing this story. And if it was what he needed to trust me to help him, I would keep going. Even if it was rather painful.

"Father Eric, the one who found me, called the police, and they took me to the hospital to make sure I was okay. And I was, only mildly chilled, which isn't surprising, given the fact that it was at night, in March, in New York City. At the hospital, they determined that I was only a few days old, but they couldn't pin down an exact date. So, on all official documents, my birthday was recorded as March 14, 1989. I spent the first few weeks in an orphanage, where the secretary thought she was clever and gave me the last name of Ward, since I was a ward of the state. After that, I went to live in a foster home with the Carrigans. They were an older couple, but really nice. They took good care of me, spoiling me like I was their grandchild. But then Mr. Carrigan died suddenly, a stroke or heart attack or something like that, I can't remember. Mrs. Carrigan tried, she really did, but a four-year-old was too much for her on top of everything else.

"So I went back to the orphanage for a few months, before going to the McDonalds. They weren't too bad, mostly treated me with indifference, really. At least until I started school. I got bored quickly, so my mind would wander and I wouldn't hear instructions. I got in trouble a lot, and I was kind of a know-it-all, so I got in fights when I told bigger kids they were wrong. From the McDonalds, I went to the Wallaces, then to the Adams, and then to so many others that I lose track. I wouldn't spend more than a few weeks, months at most, before I got sent off to another place. And then, I got sent to the Garfields."

Remembering that awful time, I shuddered. I was so absorbed in my memories that I had almost forgotten Steve, until he touched my arm. Looking up at him, he smiled in sympathy. "You don't have to keep going," he assured me.

"Yeah, I do." Even if it is more for me than you, I added silently. Then, I took a deep breath and plunged back in. "Mr. Garfield wasn't too bad. He somehow bribed a doctor to give him disability, probably with drugs, so he spent most of his time in his chair in front of the T.V., stoned or drunk out of his mind. He didn't bother us kids, as long as we didn't get between him and the T.V. Mrs. Garfield, on the other hand, was the one to watch out for.

"She was sugary sweet when she picked me up, but the moment the Social Services lady was gone, out came the real Mrs. Garfield. I was not to call her anything but Mrs. Garfield, because she was not my mom, grandma, aunt, or anything else like that. I was to do my chores, and be quick about it, or I would get what was coming to me. I soon found out what that meant, when I forgot to wash my dishes after dinner one night. That meant I didn't get breakfast the next morning. I didn't vacuum the living room, that meant I got a smack on the back. It was never the same punishment twice, and the severity differed with her mood. One time, I had to go to school with a black eye, and my teacher asked me about it. She probably thought I'd been in another fight, which I actually never started. But anyway, when I told her it was from Mrs. Garfield, she called me a liar. And worse, she called Mrs. Garfield and told her what I'd said. That beating was the worst so far, with her screaming at me, hitting me, and throwing things. So, that night, after everyone was asleep, I packed what little I owned into my backpack, and I slipped out the window."

The only way I'd been able to tell Steve this was because I'd refused to look at his face. If I didn't look at him, if I treated it like something that had happened to someone else, I could handle it. I didn't want to see the pity that would undoubtedly be on his face. But when my pause stretched into a rather long silence, I couldn't help but look up. And what I saw wasn't pity. It was horror mixed with fury, and rather sharply, respect. It was exactly the look Dad had had on his face when I'd finally told him. Steve's look gave me the courage I needed to finish my tale.

"Once I ran away, I lived on the streets for about two years. I picked pockets to survive. The first couple of times, I got caught, but since I've always been pretty small and looked younger than I really am, they just let me go when I gave them my innocent look. I almost froze to death that first winter, though. Thankfully, it was a warm one, or as warm as it gets here. But I survived it, and all the other dangers that come with being a child on the streets. Dad says it's because I'm a fighter," I remembered fondly.

"How old were you?" Steve asked, speaking for the first time since I'd started my story.

"Eight," I answered, recognizing his shock. "I lived on the streets for two years, until the day that I picked the right guy's pocket."

This part of my story was good, and a smile crossed my face at the memories. "One very rainy September day, I tried to pick this guy's pocket, but he caught me. Instead of yelling at me or hauling me to the police station, he took me to dinner, and then gave me a dry, warm place to sleep. He told me then that I could use that room anytime I wanted. It took me about a month before I stopped sneaking out early every morning, and even longer to accept that he actually wanted nothing from me, just to help. It was just before Christmas when I got sick, mostly from spending the vast majority of my time outside in winter without proper clothing. I had collapsed in this little alley, and Dad found me when I didn't come in for the night. He looked for me all night, then once he found me, he took care of me, not leaving my side other than to get me more soup or medicine for almost a week. That's when I knew he really cared about me. So I stayed, and by March, he adopted me. There were some serious hurdles he had to jump, both with the courts and with SHIELD, but he did it because he cares about me. He's my daddy," I finished quietly, wiping another tear from my cheek.

Steve was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his words were not what I was expecting, at all. "Emily Coulson, you are one of the bravest people I have ever had the pleasure to meet. Thank you for sharing that with me."

To say I was self-conscious at this point would be a gross understatement. I blushed furiously under his admiration. "Well, I think we've had enough soul-bearing for one day. What do you say we go get some lunch?" I said quickly, trying to get the conversation to something other than my past.

He laughed, nodding in agreement. Then, just before I opened the door, he grabbed my arm. "How many people have you told this to?" he wondered quietly.

I smiled softly. "Parts of it I've told to three people. The whole thing? Only my dad knows."

Steve let go, his eyes wide in astonishment. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he realized how much it really meant for me to tell him.

…

After lunch, I introduced Steve to a computer. Once I explained that the internet worked a bit like wireless radios and television, he got it surprisingly well. And then we dived into history. We started on the rest of World War II that afternoon. I kept him so busy with facts that he didn't have a chance to ask about his teammates. I didn't know how to tell him about that. And I figured he'd had enough heartbreak in the past twenty-four hours as it was that I didn't need to add to it.

Once our intense study session was over, I noticed that Steve was bouncing his knee. I doubted that he was even conscious of it, but it reminded me that he was used to a lot more physical activity. "C'mon," I ordered, standing up. "Up you get."

Surprisingly, he stood up without complaint, even if he did have a puzzled look on his face. "Where are we going?" he asked as I led him out of my office.

"We are going to the gym. Since yesterday was the first time I'd gone in forever, I desperately need to get back into a routine. And I figured you would like it, too. You seem the type of guy who likes doing something a bit physical."

Unfortunately, we passed a random agent in the halls right when I said that, and he gave me a look that was partly quizzical, partly suggestive. I flushed bright red, then thanked my lucky stars that Steve was behind me. And that he probably didn't think anything of what I'd just said.

We made it to the training room without any further incidents. I managed to find some clothes that would (sort of) fit Steve, then we both changed. Once again, I started with yoga, but I skipped the elliptical this time. I knew that sparring with Steve would be enough of a workout.

"Hey, big fella, show me what you got," I said, grinning as I climbed into the ring.

Steve simply shook his head and climbed in after me.

We sparred for almost an hour. When we finally stopped, we were both drenched in sweat, though I was the only one out of breath. "You are really good," he told me in admiration.

"Thanks," I panted. "I'm super out of shape, but thanks. Once Tasha comes back, you'll have to spar with her. I swear, she never even looks out of breath. And she never has a hair out of place when she's done. It's so not fair."

Steve laughed. "Well, I can tell she must be a good teacher, since her student is so good."

My cheeks warmed a bit at his praise. "Well, you're not too bad yourself, big guy."

Finally getting my breath back, I walked over to the safe containing all the various weapons. Putting in the combination (my adoption date), I pulled out a random gun. "You want some target practice?" I called over my shoulder.

"I think I'm good," Steve replied, moving back to the punching bag.

"Suit yourself," I mumbled, grabbing the appropriate silencer before closing the safe. Walking toward the targets, I called out, "Grant, you should know better than to try and sneak up on me." Then I turned toward the doorway in time to see the agent slipping inside.

"The day someone can sneak up on you will be a very sad one," he told me, coming to watch.

I fired off a few rounds before I turned back to him. "There are three people who can sneak up on me. You just don't happen to be one of them."

"I'm assuming those three are your dad, Agent Barton, and the Black Widow," he guessed, ticking them off on his fingers.

"Right on two. Clint thinks he can sneak up on me, but I just humor him," I smirked.

"So who's the other?" Grant had a very confused look on his face, so I took pity on him.

"Director Fury," I answered.

"I should have known," he said, shaking his head.

"Yes, you should have," I replied, then emptied the magazine of the gun I held. As I walked over to the targets, I asked, "So what brings you to this neck of the woods? You normally stay away from this place, ever since Tasha almost killed you."

Grant grimaced at the memory. "Thank you for that reminder," he said sarcastically. "I just got back from New Mexico, and your dad asked me to check up on you. And to drop off something for you. It's waiting on your desk."

"And how did you know I would be here?" I wondered.

"Your dad," he said simply. "He told me that if you weren't in your office, now that the Captain is awake, then you would probably be here. Apparently, this is your favorite place in SHIELD."

"I have some good memories here," I told him, while inspecting my target. "Hm, not quite. I got a bit rusty without practice for six months," I mumbled to myself.

"Rusty? You got all but two rounds in the bullseye," Grant said incredulously. "That's better than most agents."

"What can I say? I'm a perfectionist. And most of the shots were around the edge of the bullseye. I can do better," I said, pushing the button to reset the target. It blurred momentarily, before becoming pristine again.

"Man, Omega Team is so spoiled," he moaned.

"That's what happens when you're the best," I said simply, going back to my mark to try again.

Grant watched while I nailed every shot this time. Then, he looked at me pleadingly. "Could you introduce me to Captain Rogers? I swear I won't be a nerd about it."

I sighed theatrically. "C'mon, fanboy," I joked, heading over to Steve.

"Hey, Steve, I want you to meet someone," I hollered, so he would hear me over his concentration.

He stopped so suddenly, the punching bag swung back into him. That would have knocked me onto my butt, however, Steve barely blinked. He wiped some sweat off his forehead, then extended his other hand. "Hi, I'm Steve Rogers," he said kindly.

Grant's eyes were kind of glassy as he took Steve's hand mechanically. "Uh huh," he mumbled.

I took pity on the poor guy. "Steve, this is Grant Ward. He's an agent here, and he was working with my dad."

"It's nice to meet you, Agent Ward," Steve said, the absolute embodiment of politeness.

Grant merely nodded, until I elbowed him. "Oh, yeah, so nice to meet you, Sir," he said, still shaking his hand.

Inwardly groaning, I clapped a hand on Grant's arm. "Well, it was nice seeing you, but I'm sure you have some debriefing or something to do," I told him sternly.

"Uh, yeah, I do. Nice to meet you, Captain," he told Steve.

Steve nodded, probably wondering what was wrong with the guy. I escorted Grant out, shaking my head at him the whole time. "So much for not being a nerd," I sighed.

"I'm sorry, but that was Captain freaking America. I couldn't help it," he defended. Then, he finally slipped back into his normal self. "You might want to head back to your office before your surprise gets cold," he warned.

Instantly, I knew what it was. "I love my dad," I sighed, before yelling back to Steve. "We need to go back to my office! We've got Mexican food waiting for us!"

**AN: So now we have Emily's back story. I'm still working on a one-shot that gives the whole account, but it's slow going. It might end up coming out after I finish Daddy's Little Girl. I'm not really sure. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and kudos to anyone who correctly guesses the little plot twist I alluded to in this chapter. Thanks to everyone who reads this, especially if you make it through the whole author's note. Big thanks to those who've reviewed/favorited/followed. It totally makes my day! I love hearing your theories, favorite parts/quotes, or just what you've liked about the chapter. And I know this chapter is really early from what was expected, but I knew this weekend will be crazy, so I gave it to you early! I'm going to try to get the next chapter out by Sunday, but no promises. Thanks for reading!**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: I only play in the MCU. I sadly own nothing. And this chapter has some sensitive topics, just as a warning.**

Chapter 14

Over the next few days, Steve and I fell into an easy routine. We would meet at the canteen every morning, get breakfast to go, and then, eating as we went, cover in depth the years he'd missed. When our brains couldn't take any more, we'd have lunch, then I would introduce him to some new form of technology. We'd usually stop when his eyes glazed over from my over-enthusiasm. What can I say? I've always been a bit of a techno-geek.

After his tech class, Steve and I would head to the training room. It took me a while, but I finally got him on to something other than the punching bag. Especially after I realized he'd gone through twenty in the first week. He made a lot of use of the weights and nearly wore the treadmill out, running for miles. While he did his thing, I would do my own, a little yoga, a little running, a little target practice. But we always ended sparring. It was the highlight of my day, knowing I could (sort of) hold my own against Captain America.

Once we were both too sore to move, or rather, I was, we would have dinner, back in my office. Evenings were spent watching movies, listening to music, and covering sports. We started in 1945, since he'd been there for anything before. We watched a lot of musicals, and I even taught him how to dance. I could tell it was a bittersweet thing for him, but I didn't push.

While we were settling in to our routine, I noticed little things that told me he wasn't doing as well as he wanted me to think. He was working out aggressively, like if he stopped, the past would catch up to him. I would find a new punching bag hanging in the gym, not the one that had been there the night before. And even his super serum couldn't take care of the bags that were starting to form under his eyes. And then, it all came to a head early one morning.

That day started out like any other. The radio woke Achilles and me (this time it was Michael Buble; always a better option), and Achilles danced around my ankles as I got my things ready for my shower. He even sang to me while I was in the bathroom. Then, he helped me pick out my outfit for the day, growling at the things I shouldn't wear, and yipping at the good choices.

Once I got to the canteen at work, I looked around before realizing that Steve was not there waiting for me as usual. I waited for a few more minutes, worrying more and more as the clock ticked on, since Steve was nothing if not punctual. I asked if anyone had seen him, thinking maybe he'd already gotten our food and was waiting for me in my office, but to no avail. No one had seen him since dinner the night before. Finally, I decided to go look for him, heeding the growing unsettling feeling that was disturbing my peace.

I checked my office first, just in case, but, not surprisingly, there was no sign of him. Next place was the training room, but he wasn't there, either. It looked like he'd had a pretty rough night and hadn't had a chance to clean up yet, looking at the five punching bags on the floor. After leaving there, I took off toward the barracks and his room, running nearly flat out to get to him. I couldn't explain it, but somehow I knew he needed me.

Rather winded, I banged on his door as soon as I slid to a stop. "Steve?" I called, imagining all sorts of scenarios in my mind when he didn't answer. Evil henchmen kidnapping him turned into General Ross trying to force him into endless experiments. But even my imagination couldn't come up with what faced me once I forced my way into his room.

Steve was lying on his bed, completely drenched in sweat. His hands were gripping the mattress so hard, springs were poking through. And his eyes were screwed shut, keeping him locked in the world of his nightmare.

"Bucky, grab my hand! Bucky, no!" The scream that ripped itself from his throat was barely human. It tore at my heart.

Without thinking, I rushed to Steve's side, shaking him to bring him back from that horrible memory. "Steve, wake up! It's just a dream!"

The words were barely out of my mouth when a hand was wrapping itself around my throat. Steve flipped his body, landing us both on the ground, with me underneath. His eyes were open, but unseeing. And the hand that wasn't around my neck was forming into a fist as I pushed back, trying to break his grip.

Suddenly, he went slack. "Emily?" he asked, completely in shock. "What are you doing in here? What happened?" He was utterly disoriented.

"You were dreaming," I replied, now pushing his hand aside easily. "I tried to wake you, but I think you thought I was attacking you."

"I thought you were HYDRA," he confessed softly, looking at me in horror.

"Well, I'm not," I answered, in a really bad joke.

"I could have killed you," he shot back, jumping to his feet. "What were you thinking?!"

I was a bit slower to my feet, but not to my answer. "I was thinking that my friend was hurting, and I needed to do something to stop it! I was not about to sit there and watch while you were hurting!"

"But I hurt you! I could have killed you!" Steve was so insistent that I understand that fact. But here's the kicker: I did understand it, but there was no way I was going to let that stop me.

"You didn't hurt me anymore than I've been hurt in the ring," I told him, getting very testy now. "And the moment you realized it was me, you stopped. You didn't punch me like you were going to. You stopped, Steve. You didn't hurt me, not really."

"Then I must be imagining the bruises that are already forming on your neck that just happen to be the exact shape and size of my hand," he snarked back at me.

At any other time, I would have been proud of him showing this much attitude. Instead, I just got pissed. "I am fine, Steve Rogers! I've survived much worse, and you've thrown this whole conversation out of whack! This is not about me. It's about you."

"I'm fine." The angry look on his face only intensified. As did the one on mine.

"You are not fine! Your best friend died what seems like only a few weeks ago for you. Your entire world is gone. You are not fine! You are bottling it all up, pretending to be fine for me so I don't see how upset you are. But then, when I'm not around, you beat the crap out of punching bags to avoid sleep! And when you do actually sleep, you dream about the worst moments of your life. So don't even pretend like you are fine!" I shouted.

"You're right!" Steve yelled, turning on me like I was the enemy. And right then, I was. "You're right! I'm not fine! I watched my best friend fall to his death, because of me! I watched countless men die, because they were following me. I wake up, in this strange world, completely different from everything I know, and everything familiar is gone. Nothing is the same. I have lost everything I know. And then, you come in to my life, with your cheerfulness, and your stubborn feistiness, and you make me like you. Against my will, you make me forget, for just a little bit. So when you're around, I cling to that, to be able to push all that away for as long as I can. 'Cause when you're not around, it all comes rushing back, clawing, tearing at my mind. I see Bucky falling, over and over and over. I hear Peggy crying over the radio. I imagine Howard dying in an awful wreck. I see Morita and Falsworth, both dying in horrible ways. I see my mom, wasting away from a terrible sickness, and she's still trying to keep me away so I don't get it, too. I see men in uniforms, telling me that my dad is never coming back. And then, I see you, being taken away from me, in different ways, by different people. Everything I've ever cared about has always been taken away from me, so why not this girl with the personality like sunshine? She's the only thing that's keeping me sane, so maybe she's not even real. That's what my mind keeps telling me in the dark, whispering to me that all this can't possibly be real. Maybe I never woke up, maybe I'm still trapped in that ice. Maybe you're really HYDRA, and you're just keeping me here for some diabolical plan. I can't sleep for all the thoughts that are running through my mind, and the rare times I actually can, those thoughts turn into nightmares. And then, to top it all off, while I'm dreaming, you try to wake me up, and I nearly kill you. So, no, Emily, I'm not fine. But I don't know what to do about it."

Steve stood there in front of me, his previously defiant posture now slumped. He looked positively broken. His head hanged down, shoulders drooping more than I'd ever seen, hands clenched at his side. But his eyes were what broke my heart. His eyes looked so haunted, almost dead.

"Have you ever thought," I started, going to stand in front of him and taking his face in my hands, "that maybe you're not meant to do this alone? I'm here to help you."

Steve looked me in the eye for a long moment, before suddenly crumpling. He fell to his knees as great, gasping sobs tore through him. He'd brought me with him, so I simply wrapped my arms around him, running my hand over his back like I would a small child, while he let go of everything he'd been holding inside for the past weeks.

His sobs eventually calmed to occasional shudders against my shoulder. My feet were long past feeling, but I was long past caring. I didn't know how long he would be like this, but I knew I would be there for him for as long as he needed me.

After a while, I could feel him relaxing against me, and I knew I physically couldn't support his entire weight for much longer. So I slowly maneuvered myself so that my back was against the wall, with my legs out in front of me. Steve shifted enough that his head was in my lap, with his body curled up against me. He was asleep, and it looked peaceful.

Looking up, I realized that his door was still wide open from when I'd picked the lock to get in. There were a few curious agents looking in, but they scurried when I glared at them. Sometimes, it paid to have a reputation around the place. Of course, most only knew not to make me mad because of those I called family. They didn't know that I could cause nearly as much damage as those who'd trained me if they dared try to gossip about this.

A few minutes later, Grant Ward happened by and did a double take when he saw me. Close the door, I mouthed to him, and thankfully, he did. Bless that man, I thought, before turning my attention back to the one sleeping on my lap.

Steve looked so peaceful, more so than I'd ever seen him. The faint, ever-present furrow in his brow completely disappeared. He didn't even twitch. He simply breathed in and out, in and out.

After watching him for five minutes, I gave in to the temptation that I'd somehow resisted the entire time he'd been unconscious: I ran my fingers through his gorgeous hair. It was thick, possibly even thicker than mine, and incredibly soft. And apparently, addictive. Once I did it once, it was impossible to stop. I found it oddly soothing, just the repetitive motion of pulling my fingers through his hair.

Once I came to the conclusion that he wasn't going to wake up any time soon, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my electronic library. I stopped on one, looked at Steve, then back to my phone. "Well, you are probably the last person on earth who hasn't heard of Harry Potter. I desperately need to remedy that." So I pulled up the first book and started reading out loud.

Somewhere in the middle of Harry's excursion to the North Tower with Hermione and Norbert the baby dragon, Steve started stirring. He didn't open his eyes, so I simply kept reading. Once I got to the end of the chapter, I took a sip of the water bottle I'd found in the mini fridge I'd been sitting by. "You'd be surprised at the weird dreams I was having," Steve said, still not opening his eyes.

"Please tell me they involved flying broomsticks and pet owls," I teased.

"In fact, they did. And missing toads and talking paintings," he answered, finally looking at me.

"Those are the best kind of dreams. I've been having them since 1999," I told him. "And they just keep getting better, just like the books."

Steve smiled, and it was a happier one than I'd ever seen on his face. He seemed a bit more at peace, even though I knew it would be a long process before he was completely over this. "Thank you, Emily," he said softly.

"For reading Harry Potter? Anytime," I joked, never one to feel at ease with sincere gratitude.

He simply looked at me with one eyebrow raised. "You know that's not what I meant," he scolded gently.

"Oh, you meant for being a pillow? Well, you now owe me some serious chocolate for that," I continued. Then, just as he realized his head was still in my lap, I realized I was still playing with his hair. We both jumped apart, blushing furiously.

To add to my embarrassment, my stomach took that time to growl loudly. "I think it's time to take care of that chocolate I owe you," Steve said with a grin.

He helped me up from the floor, waiting while I stretched the kinks out of my back and neck. Then, just before he opened the door for me, he turned back and said, "Thank you, for helping me, for being there when I needed you. Even after I almost killed you."

"It would take more than that to even almost kill me, big fella," I joked. Then, at his mildly scolding eyebrow raise, I relented. "What else are friends for?"

**AN: I know this is a short one, but it just seemed like the right place to end it. And I'm sorry it's almost late. It was hard to write, trying to get it at least somewhat realistic. Steve is actually a hard character to write! Anyway, I just wanted to thank those that reviewed/followed/favorited since the last chapter. Ans , even though I didn't say it, that last chapter was for you and your plot bunnies. Thanks for reading, everyone, and please review! I adore hearing back from you, and would love to hear what you think, favorite parts, even grammar corrections that I missed. Reviews make me happy, and when I'm happy, I write more. Hint, hint. :) Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

**P.S. I made a few small changes to the earlier chapters. I was subconsciously stealing the name of Coulson's team from another author. I totally thought it was their actual name, until I Googled it. So now their name is Omega Team, and they will explain why later. Thanks again for reading!**


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: I own nothing from Marvel, only my OC's.**

Chapter 15

It took some convincing, but I finally got Steve to talk with Dr. Martin, one of SHIELD's best, and until recently, retired psychiatrists. I really pushed for him, since he'd been the one who'd helped Tasha and even Clint. Heck, the man had even helped me when I was a scared little kid, completely unsure of what was going to happen to me. And since Dr. Martin was only available in the afternoon, that meant Steve and I had to adjust our schedule, which I was more than willing to do. I would have gladly juggled elephants, if it meant Steve was getting the help he needed.

The Monday before Thanksgiving, I was in my office, doing some paperwork while Steve was in his session, when "Secret Agent Man" started playing. Grinning, I answered, "Hey, Dad."

"Hey, yourself. I leave for a mission, and it's like I've suddenly fallen off the face of the earth," he grumbled goodnaturedly.

"Hey, we've talked since you left," I defended.

"Twice. You realize I've been gone for four weeks, right?"

"This thing works both ways, you know?"

"I don't think it does, actually. Both times we talked, I was the one to call you. So I'm getting the distinct impression that you need a new phone."

"Of course I do, Dad. The new iPhone just came out," I hinted broadly.

"You are a strong, independent woman. If you want a new phone, you've got a full-time job now. Go get it yourself," he said, sounding utterly serious. But I knew that if I really wanted one, it would be mine before I even had a chance to ask for it. It was great being a daddy's girl.

"So, how's New Mexico? Clint kill any local yet? Or agent?" I said, moving on to new topics.

"No, thankfully, he hasn't maimed anyone yet, either. It's a bit surprising, but comforting, just the same." Dad's voice oozed long-suffering, but I knew he truly cared about Clint. "And speaking of New Mexico, when are you going to be making it here? Thanksgiving is only three days away." Now it was Dad's turn to hint, which instantly filled me with dread. How was I going to tell him I couldn't make it?

"Dad, I-"

I barely started speaking when Dad started laughing. "Em, sweetheart, I knew as soon as you suggested coming that it wasn't going to happen. Even if Captain Rogers hadn't woken up. You are such a caring person that you would never be able to leave him on his own, whether he was awake or not. Even for a holiday."

"And you're not mad?" I asked quietly.

"How can I be mad that you're a goodhearted person, not to mention it's your job? Especially after all the times that my job has made me miss things?"

"Well, I wasn't going to mention it," I teased. Then I realized something. "So you knew this whole time that I wouldn't be able to make it, and you still let me worry about how to break it to you?! That is so cold, Dad!"

"They don't call me 'Iceman' Coulson for nothing, you know," he said, trying to be cool.

"They don't call you that, Dad," I countered.

"Well, they should," he shot back.

"No, they really shouldn't."

We joked around, teasing each other like we always did for the rest of the conversation. Sadly, he had to get back to work, and Steve was due back from his session with Dr. Martin any moment. "I got to go, Dad, but maybe I'll see you for Christmas," I replied.

"I won't hold my breath," he laughed. "And now Barton owes me twenty. Love you, Em."

"Wait, why does Clint owe you twenty dollars? Dad?" But he had already hung up. "Sneaky spy," I grumbled, locking my phone before letting it thump down onto my desk.

"Is this bad timing?" Ava asked, leaning against the door jamb like she was posing for a modeling job. Sadly, I knew she wasn't doing it on purpose.

"Oh, no, I just got off the phone with my dad, and he always leaves me hanging. He somehow always manages to get the last word in, hanging up before I can reply. But what brings you round my neck of the woods?" I asked, insanely curious, especially since she'd confessed a fear of any and all medical procedures.

"I have a break, and I thought I would see my friend. The one who's been incredibly hard to get a hold of the past few months. I swear, if it's not one guy keeping you all to himself, it's another. How do you get so lucky?" she teased.

Just then, Steve came back to pick me up for dinner. And of course, he heard that last part. We both blushed furiously. "Thank you, Ava. You are the best," I said, sarcasm coating every syllable.

"I know," she said flippantly as she turned around. And then her eyes grew about four sizes when she saw Steve. "And hello," she added in a sultry tone. "You must be Captain Rogers."

"Yes, I am," he replied uncomfortably. But his manners never failed. With his hand outstretched, he asked, "And you are?"

"I'm Ava Richardson, one of Emily's training buddies," she answered, holding onto his hand for a lot longer than was necessary.

"Ava, he's not a piece of meat to drool over," I whined, pushing them both out the door. "If you wanted to see me, you might as well join us for dinner."

"I would love to," she said, eyes still glued to Steve.

I'd never had such an awkward walk in headquarters before. And that included the time I had to meet Director Fury because I'd hacked into their network. Ava kept flirting with Steve, and he kept trying to be polite, but yet still discouraging. If I hadn't been so annoyed, I would have probably laughed.

Knowing that Steve would be able to hear anything I said, no matter how quietly, I had to settle for texting Ava once we got to the canteen. "Be nice to the poor man," I ordered electronically.

"I am ;)," was her insincere reply.

"You can't treat him like you do every other male," I insisted.

"Because he's yours? Got it :P."

She clearly didn't. "No, because he's still in love with someone who's now ninety-five. So it's complicated."

"And he's yours. I'll play nice :D."

I was going to strangle her with those smiley faces. "Do I need to remind you that I have a boyfriend?"

"Do I need to remind you that you have a boyfriend?"

"I'm going to kill you."

"Naw, you love me. And I'll stop flirting with your man."

Surprisingly, she did. She switched off her flirty, sultry persona like she was flipping a switch. It was sort of scary. The only person I'd seen able to do something like that was Tasha. I knew Ava was well on her way to becoming a very good agent.

And once she stopped flirting, Steve was able to relax. He still kept shooting wary glances her way, but he was a lot more comfortable than I would have thought. And about ten minutes into our meal, we were joined by Delia and Drake. "I haven't seen you in forever!" Delia squealed, giving me an almost suffocating hug.

"I've been a bit busy," I managed to cough out.

When I introduced them to Steve, interestingly enough, Drake was the one who freaked out the most. He became a goofy, overly excited fanboy, while Delia was just her normal bubbly self. But once he calmed down, the five of us had a great time. Good enough, in fact, for Steve to invite them to join us for our nightly movie.

"So, what are we watching?" Delia asked excitedly.

"We've made it to 1950, so it's between 'Cinderella', 'Harvey', and 'Annie Get Your Gun'," I explained, as I led the way back to my office. I stopped, however, when we got to the door and I remembered that, while I did have a couch which was perfect for two people, there was no way we would get all five of us comfortably. "Change of plans. We're going to Omega Team's offices. They have couches. Plural."

They all knew well enough by then not to ask if we'd get in trouble. And they knew that as long as they stayed out of Tasha's stuff, we wouldn't get in trouble. Or, at least everyone but Steve did, and he was too polite to snoop, anyway.

Once we were all comfy, and after much debating, we finally decided on 'Harvey'. As we watched, an idea started to form in my mind, tickling at the back of my brain. And by the time the end credits were rolling, it was fully grown. "Are you guys going to be here for Thanksgiving?" I asked, barely able to contain my excitement.

Ava, Delia, and Drake all nodded, while Steve just gave me a look that said "Please tell me you're kidding". "I already knew you were, Steve. I meant the others. But that's great! Since we're all going to be here, you should all come to my place and we can have a Friendsgiving!" I exclaimed.

Delia looked excited, Drake and Ava looked pleased, and Steve was very confused. "What's a 'Friendsgiving'?" he asked, looking so lost.

"It's Thanksgiving, but with friends!" Delia explained enthusiastically. "Like for us, who can't be with our families… on… Thanksgiving," she ended slowly, suddenly remembering that Steve had no family left.

Fortunately, he didn't seem to notice. "Oh, that's what Bucky and I would do every year. Once his mom died, it was just the two of us and his little sister. Sometimes we would have friends over, but they were usually with their families. But it's really nice of you to invite us all, Emily, but-"

I cut him off before he could finish that refusal. "I expect all of you to be there, including you, Steve. And if you don't come, I will consider it a personal slight." That should do it.

And it did. He instantly looked contrite. "Alright. I'll be there."

The others agreed, as well. "What can we bring, Emily?" Delia asked, still looking rather excited.

"Well, since it will be at my place, I'll do the turkey," I suggested.

And it just went on from there. The whole menu was planned, as well as the rest of the weekend. The others decided that we should decorate my apartment for Christmas, while we were at it. "After all, I'm not braving the New York City Black Friday crowd, so we might as well have fun that day," Ava said reasonably.

After a bit more planning, everyone but Steve left the room. He was also about to leave when I had a horrible thought. I gasped, making him whirl around in concern. "What's wrong, Emily?" he asked, worry written on every line of his face.

"I can't do this," I proclaimed.

"The dinner? Why not?" Now he was just confused.

"I'm supposed to do the turkey, and I can't cook! How did I forget something so important!"

Steve laughed. "If that's all you're worried about, I'll help you."

"You know how to cook a turkey?" I was a bit intrigued by the thought of Steve in the kitchen.

"Yes, I can cook a turkey. I can cook a lot of things," he said with a smile.

"What would I do without you? You're my hero," I exaggerated, batting my eyelashes ridiculously.

Steve blushed adorably. "That's enough out of you, Missy."

"But you are my hero! You've saved me from a terrible fate!" I continued the outlandish praise until he threatened to not cook the turkey for me. I quickly shut up.

…

When Thursday rolled around, Achilles and I watched the parade from the comfort of our living room. I called Dad after, and we talked forever. In fact, I was still on the phone with him when Steve knocked on the door. "Hey, I gotta go, Dad. Steve's here to help me with the turkey," I told him.

"Captain Rogers is going to be in my apartment? I think you just made my month, if not year," Dad breathed.

I just laughed. "Okay, I love you. Talk to you later," I said as I opened the door to let Steve in.

Steve looked a bit surprised at my attire. "Oh, yeah, I forgot to change. I was talking to Dad, and we ended up talking longer than I planned. Sorry," I said, pulling my hoodie down further, trying to make sure it covered my butt. I was wearing leggings, but I still felt a bit self-conscious in front of Steve, who, despite wearing clothes that were close to 1940's fashion, always looked completely put together. And he also still wasn't used to modern clothes, meaning that he was probably a bit scandalized by my apparel.

"Uh, no, you're fine," he assured, while blushing furiously.

"Okay, well, the turkey has been thawing all night, just like it said in that blog I found," I explained, leading him to the kitchen.

"Blog? Never mind, let's just get to work on the turkey," he said, shaking his head at my utterly modern term.

Steve immediately dived in, like he knew exactly what he should do. Which was remarkable, since I wasn't entirely sure turkeys had been packaged the same way in the 40s. He ripped the package open like it was no big deal, something that would have seen me struggling for a good twenty minutes. And then he started pulling out the insides. After a few minutes of me trying to help and ending up just being in the way, he sent me away. "I'll just go shower then, if you don't need my help," I said, felling rather useless in my own kitchen.

"Yeah, I've got this covered," he told me, politely trying to hide a smile. He didn't really succeed at that.

I all but ran from the room, fleeing to the sanctuary that was my shower. And when I came out, thirty minutes later, Mr. Turkey was all nice and snug in the oven, without any needed help from Emily.

Steve did let me help him do the potatoes. Or at least he let me peel them. "We don't need to cook them just yet, but it'll be easier to do them now than later," he told me.

"It's nice to know that I'm not completely inept in the kitchen," I said jokingly.

Ava showed up a little later, bringing food with. "These rolls are to die for," she informed. "I found this delightful little bakery just around the corner from work, and I swear, everything they have there is good. It's like they can do no wrong."

I was pulling out some snacks from the fridge when the doorbell rang again. "Just come in, guys! The door's still open!" I shouted, then turned to put a veggie tray on the kitchen island.

Thankfully, Steve had quick reflexes, because when I saw who was actually walking through my door, the tray dropped from my hands. "Carter!" I squealed, before running and practically attacking the guy.

"Hey, babe. I take it you're happy to see me?" he laughed, wrapping his arms around me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, a little dazed. "I thought you said you were going to be in Italy or somewhere."

"You can thank me," Delia said, shoving her way into the apartment with a pie in each hand. "After you invited us all over, I gave Carter here a call, and he didn't have any holiday plans, so we decided to surprise you."

"Surprise," Carter added, giving me a rakish grin.

"I am definitely surprised," I replied. "I can't believe you're here!"

"Well, when it's between seeing a beautiful woman and seeing a bunch of grouchy soldiers, the beautiful woman wins, hands down," he said, before kissing me quickly.

"Aw," all three of us women said, though it was with varying inflections. While I was mildly teasing, Delia was in sappy rapture, and Ava? Well, I was pretty sure Ava was sarcastic.

After that nice surprise, it was a fantastic day. We ate, we laughed, we played silly games, we played with my puppy who soaked up all the attention, and we drank way too much wine. Especially after Delia realized that Steve couldn't get drunk. "Not even a little tipshy?" she asked, already way past "tipshy".

Steve smiled. "No, my body metabolizes the alcohol too fast. I tried a few times, but nothing works."

"That'sh sho shad," Delia said, almost in tears over it. The rest of us found this incredibly hysterical.

Around midnight, Delia was asleep on Drake, who was also asleep on one couch. Ava headed to my room, where she was planning on sleeping in my bed. That's when Steve decided to leave. "You can stay," I told him sleepily. "There's plenty of room."

"No, I'll be fine," he smiled, probably at the huge yawn that ripped across my face.

"But everyone else is staying. You might as well. And we're gonna decorate tomorrow," I whined.

"I'll come back in the morning. Thanks for a great day, Emily," he said, before turning to the elevator. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Now that he's gone," Carter said in my ear, before kissing my neck. I turned in his arms to kiss him back.

I was so absorbed in his kiss, and a bit drunk, that I didn't feel his hand working its way under my skirt at first. But I finally did, and promptly pulled away. "Carter!" I hissed, fully aware that my two friends were still passed out on the couch less than ten feet away.

"What?" he asked, then kissed me again. And put his hand right back to where it had been.

I jerked myself back. "Carter, I am not having sex with you while my two friends are right over there!" I whispered viciously. "And before you start suggesting other places, Ava's already sleeping in my bed, and there is no way anything is going on in my dad's. That's just not happening this weekend."

I walked to my bedroom before he could say anything else. I only hoped he wouldn't remember anything the next morning.

Thankfully, he didn't seem to. So when I dragged myself into the living room the next morning, he simply greeted me with a sloppy kiss. And the day went perfectly after that. Everyone helped me decorate the apartment, and we ate tons of leftovers. It was the perfect Black Friday.

Until Carter had to leave. "I'm sorry, babe, but I have to be back at the Pentagon tonight. The General wasn't really excited about giving me leave in the first place, so I shouldn't push my luck."

I couldn't argue with that, so I simply walked him down. "So, when are you going to come down to D.C. to see me?" he asked hopefully.

"I don't know when I can, Carter. I'm sorry! But helping Steve is my job right now," I explained.

"He seemed perfectly fine to me, even if he was a bit old-fashioned."

"He just happens to be a really good actor," I replied. "He needs help, friends. And it is my job."

"When are you going to get back to your real job? You know, being a doctor?"

"Part of being a doctor is helping others. And right now, Steve needs my help. And I'm going to do everything I can to help him."

"I just don't like you being alone with him all the time," Carter all but mumbled.

I was floored. "Are you jealous?" I asked incredulously.

"No!" he protested. "But I don't have to like it if my girlfriend happens to spend all of her time with another guy, who happens to be a really good-looking guy."

"Well, you don't have to worry there. Steve's still in love with his girl from the war," I assured. "But once he gets over her, then you might," I added teasingly.

"Maybe I should just let him have you," Carter said exasperatedly.

"Sorry, Carter. I just couldn't resist. But there is nothing for you to worry about there. Even if Steve wasn't still in love with someone else, I'm still taken."

"Yes, you are," he replied, then kissed me ferociously. My head was still spinning once he let me go and got in the cab. I was still a little light headed even when I got back to my apartment. It had been one of those kinds of kisses.

**AN: Here's the next chapter for you! I figured Emily and Steve could use some light heartedness after all the heavy crap last chapter. Thanks for all the reviews/favorites/follows. I thrive on them! And I do have a new story for you guys. It's an X-Men: First Class OC story. I would love for you to check it out. And I swear, I'm not giving up on Emily. I love her too much for that. So I will still be updating once a week; it'll just be two stories now. Thanks again for reading!**


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: This chapter has a lot of dialogue from the movie, but still, if you recognize it, I don't own it.**

Chapter 16

Monday morning found Steve waiting for me in the training room, just like always. Well, not really waiting, since he was already on the treadmill. We worked out, each on our own, not really talking, until we went to the ring. "So, how was your first Friendsgiving?" I asked teasingly, as I aimed a punch at his head.

He dodged easily. "It was great. Thank you, Emily." Then he tried to grab my arm, but instead, I used his arm to flip myself over him.

"You are so welcome. And what did you think of Carter?" I asked, somewhat apprehensive for his answer. I didn't know why Steve's opinion mattered, but it did.

"He seems like a nice guy," he answered slowly, as we circled each other, looking for an opening.

"But?" I asked, trying to kick him. Sadly, he dodged again.

"There is no but," his mouth told me, but his eyes were telling me another story.

"Steve, I know you're not telling me the truth. You are the worst liar ever," I replied, trying to get to the bottom of this.

"It's nothing, I swear," Steve said, making a swipe at my head.

"Liar," I teased, but inside, I was a bit nervous. Why didn't he like my boyfriend?

"It's just, I don't know, he just doesn't seem to have the best intentions toward you," he mumbled.

I was floored. Steve thought Carter didn't have good intentions toward me? "What does that even mean?" I might have been a bit angry. Steve definitely noticed.

"I'm sure it's nothing," he said, backpedalling. "You know him much better than I do. Let's just leave it at that, okay?"

And that's how we made it work for the next several months. In almost everything, Steve and I would be on the same page, and whatever we weren't, we'd work through it. Even if we didn't end up agreeing, we still were able to accept the other's position. But the one subject we both avoided was Carter. Steve just couldn't see what I saw in him. And I couldn't get him around to my position.

Other than the Carter issue, we got along perfectly. We did just about everything together. We had finally progressed outside of SHIELD, so I took him to museums, Central Park, shows, anything and everything. He took me to Brooklyn, showing me what little was left from his time there. I had cajoled Director Fury into helping Steve get an apartment, so he didn't have to stay in the crappy barracks. We seamlessly moved our movie nights to either my place or his, and Drake, Delia, and Ava usually joined us. On the weekends, we took him out to bars, or clubs, or wherever we felt like that night. Since he couldn't get drunk, he always made sure we got home safely. It was nice to have a designated sober guy.

It was early May when I realized something. Steve had somehow become my best friend. I had never felt so comfortable with another human being, other than my dad. Not even Tasha or Clint knew as much about me as he did. Well, at least not from me. And in turn, he shared things with me, like his childhood with Bucky, and how scared he'd been when they were doing the serum procedure. How much he missed things from his time, but also how he was enjoying modern things. How it was hard sometimes to figure out where he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to be.

I was thinking about all that while stopping by the apartment to grab my phone on the way to Steve's place for another movie. I had accidentally left it charging that morning, and I needed it in case Dad or Carter tried to call me. So I was rushing, and I managed to drop my keys as I tried to unlock the door. But then the door opened, anyway.

"Dad!" I exclaimed, totally surprised. "Why didn't you tell me you were back?" I hugged him, so glad to be able to finally see him in person again.

"Hey, Em," he said tiredly, hugging me back more tightly than usual.

I instantly knew something was wrong. "What is it, Dad?"

"Let's sit down for this," he said, pulling me into the apartment and shutting the door. Once we were both sitting, he sighed. "Do you remember Thor?"

"How could I forget the alien god guy?"

"Yeah, that was pretty unforgettable," Dad said, the ghost of a smile briefly on his lips. But it died when he continued. "Well, his brother managed to come to Earth, and he wants to take over. And he got Barton."

"Clint's dead?" I gasped, tears already pricking my eyes.

But Dad shook his head. "Not dead, somehow Loki… turned him. Brainwashing, or something. Barton almost killed Hill."

"What do you need me to do?" There was no way I was going to sit there while the man I considered my brother was in trouble.

"How do you feel about a little bit of hacking?" That was more like the smile I was used to, with more than a hint of mischievousness in it.

"Please tell me I get to hack JARVIS again," I begged. "That was a good challenge."

"Only the best for my daughter."

"Let me grab my stuff."

Once I had my phone and my computer, Dad and I went down to his SHIELD car. "I just have to text Steve really quickly, let him know I'm not going to make it tonight."

"I have a feeling he already knows," Dad told me. At my questioning look, he continued. "The Director was planning on talking to him about all this. He's scheduled on the same flight we are tomorrow."

"Me too?" I didn't think I had that kind of pull to really be included in something this big.

"Of course. We need all the best doctors we've got." Dad gave a quick smirk, before going back to his tense state. I knew there was more to it, however. I had a feeling Dad had made sure I was included, so I didn't have to sneak on board the helicarrier.

Once we got to the monstrosity that was Stark Tower, Dad tried calling Stark. We both heard the polite British voice of his AI saying, "I'm sorry, Agent Coulson, but Sir is out."

"I need to speak with Mr. Stark. It's quite urgent," Dad insisted.

"Sir is still unavailable."

Dad then nodded to me. "Do your thing, Sweetheart."

I grinned and got to work. "Miss Coulson, I really wish you wouldn't," said the disembodied British voice.

"Sorry, JARVIS. It's nothing against you, but Tony won't let us in otherwise," I replied, feeling bad. But not too bad, as the elevator opened in front of us. "This is us, Dad."

As we went up, I overrode JARVIS's protocols, letting Dad actually get to Tony's phone. "Mr. Stark, we need to talk," Dad said.

"This is the live model decoy of Tony Stark. Please leave a message."

Real mature, I thought, as Dad replied, "This is urgent."

"Then leave it urgently," was Tony's rebuttal. Thankfully, we got to the penthouse just then, keeping Dad from blowing his cool.

Tony then said something about a security breach to Pepper, who ignored him and greeted us. "Phil, Emily! Come in!"

"Phil? Emily? I'm sorry, but his first name is 'Agent' and hers is 'Sneak'," Tony argued. "And they can't stay."

"You're just jealous because this is the second time I've managed to hack JARVIS," I said, letting my inner three-year-old out, the way it always was with Tony Stark.

"Come in, we're celebrating," Pepper said graciously, continuing to ignore her boyfriend.

Who added, "Which is why they can't stay."

Dad held out a laptop to Tony, which Pepper actually took, since Tony doesn't like to be handed things. She then handed Dad her glass of champagne and Tony the laptop, before getting me a glass, as well. "Is she even old enough to drink?" Tony asked, all snark as usual. When I simply glared at him, he sighed. "You know, official consulting hours are between eight and five, every other Thursday."

"This isn't a consultation," Dad replied.

"Is this about the Avengers?" Pepper asked curiously, then instantly backtracked. "Which I know nothing about."

Tony started the laptop up. "The Avengers Initiative was scrapped, I thought. And I didn't even qualify."

"I didn't know that, either," Pepper said, trying to look innocent. None of us were fooled, but none of us really cared. After all, I knew way more SHIELD secrets than I was supposed to, so who was I to say anything.

"Yeah, apparently I'm volatile, self-obsessed, don't play well with others," Tony continued, starting to look through the files on the computer.

"That I did know," Pepper said, looking like that was nothing new.

"This isn't about personality profiles anymore," Dad interrupted.

"Whatever. Miss Potts, got a second?" Tony called, waving Pepper over.

They talked lowly to each other for a few moments, then Pepper whispered something in his ear that caused Tony's expression to make me very uncomfortable. They kissed, then Pepper walked back over to us. "So, any chance you're going by La Guardia?" she asked us.

"We can drop you," Dad replied.

"Fantastic," Pepper said, as we all got back into the elevator. "I want to hear all about the cellist. Is that still a thing?"

I almost dropped my laptop when Dad said, "She moved back to Portland."

"What? Boo," Pepper replied.

"And why is this the first I'm hearing about it?" I nearly screeched. "I'm your daughter!"

Dad looked uncomfortable. "It just didn't work out," he managed.

"First, you don't tell me you're dating someone, then you don't tell me you've broken up! It's like I don't even know you anymore!" I cried.

"You really shouldn't hide things like that from your daughter, Phil," Pepper agreed.

Eventually, we moved onto other topics. Pepper told us about the new clean energy program Stark Industries was working on, and then we were at the airport. "Thanks for the ride," she said, looking effortlessly cool in tiny short and bare feet. But when you've got a personal jet at your disposal, I guess you don't have to worry about little things like shoes. "And please keep Tony safe," she added.

"I'll try, but you know Stark," Dad replied.

"I do," she sighed. "Be safe!" She waved, then disappeared into the crowd.

…

The next morning, Dad woke me up earlier than planned, so it was with very bleary eyes that I climbed onto our quinjet. I was slowly eating a bagel when Steve climbed on. "You're coming?" he asked me curiously.

"There's a shortage of doctors with clearance of at least Level 5," I told him, around the mouthful.

He nodded, then sat down next to me. Dad came aboard a few minutes later. I could see him trying to hide his excitement as he did all the necessary preflight things.

For most of the very short flight, Dad was busy contacting Director Fury and Tasha, making sure everything was going according to plan. But about ten minutes before landing, Dad pulled off his headset and came over to Steve. I managed to stifle my sniggers and pulled out my phone. This was going to be something worth recording.

Steve was going over the files Fury had given him, trying to understand the new team he was being placed on. "So this Dr. Banner was trying to recreate the serum used on me?" he asked Dad, who was uncomfortably close to Steve. But, Steve being Steve, he didn't say anything. I merely grinned and pushed record.

Dad's answer was instantaneous, like he couldn't wait to help his hero. "A lot of people were. You were the world's first superhero. Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine's original formula."

"Didn't really go his way, did it?" Steve asked, eyes glued to the tablet in front of him.

Dad, on the other hand, couldn't seem to take his eyes off Steve. "Not so much. When he's not that thing, though, the guy's like a Stephen Hawking." At Steve's puzzled look, Dad hurried to explain. "He's like a smart person."

The snort of laughter I couldn't hold back any longer seemed to rip Dad from his trance. Or so I thought. "I gotta say, it's an honor to meet you officially. I sort of met you. I watched you while you were sleeping." And just when I thought my dad couldn't get any more awkward, he proved me wrong. Steve stood up and looked out the front of the quinjet. And Dad mimicked his stance."I mean, I was present while you were unconscious from the ice. You know, it's just really a huge honor to have you on board this…"

Steve sighed. "I hope I'm the man for the job."

Dad's fanboy self answered without hesitation. "Oh, you are. Absolutely. Uh, we made some modifications to the uniform. I had a little design input."

"The uniform?" Steve questioned. "Aren't the stars and stripes a little… old-fashioned?"

Dad sighed. "With the things that are happening, the things that are about to come to light, people might just need a little old-fashioned."

They sat down again, each deep in thought. I grinned at the excellent footage I got, starting to send it to Tasha and Clint. But then I stopped short. Clint was the whole reason I was there, so we could get him back. And I was going to do everything I could to get him back.

We landed, and Tasha was there to greet us. "Agent Romanoff, Captain Rogers," Dad introduced, with more than a hint of pride in his voice. But I wasn't actually sure who he was more proud of, Steve, or Tasha.

"Ma'am," Steve said, polite as ever.

"Hi," Tasha said, barely sparing him a glance before telling Dad, "They need you on the bridge. They're starting the face-trace."

Dad instantly morphed into agent mode. "See you there," he told us all.

"Dr. Beckenbauer needs you in MedBay, kotenok," she told me.

"Take care of Steve," I whispered as I passed her, giving Steve a farewell grin.

As we all went our separate ways, I don't think any of us could have understood just how big this was going to be.

**AN: I know it's late, and short, but I promise another chapter before Sunday. And we've finally made it to the action! I'm so excited for this! I have a feeling my sister is going to get a little tired of hearing The Avengers playing in the background of our apartment until I"m done writing this. Once again, thanks for all the reviews/favorites/follows. I feel so loved! And reviews do make me write faster :D**


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: I still don't own anything you recognize from the MCU.**

Chapter 17

After two hours of helping Dr. Beckenbauer get the MedBay organized to his satisfaction, he finally released me to the wilds of the helicarrier. I found Dad and Steve, but sadly, not in time to prevent Dad from asking Steve to sign his Captain America trading cards. "It's a vintage set. It took me a couple of years to collect them all," Dad told him proudly.

"I think Audrey has some competition," Tasha observed quietly.

"If they were still together, I'd have to agree. You have no idea how embarrassing this is for me," I replied.

"Oh, I can imagine. And when did they break up?"

"Apparently, a while ago. He was in New Mexico, and she moved back to Portland. I guess the distance was too much for them. It's really sad, because she was so cute, and he deserves a nice woman," I mused.

"I'm fairly certain that you are not supposed to like your dad's girlfriend," Tasha smirked.

"Yeah, well, when have we ever conformed to normal familial standards?" I retorted. Then, I got serious. "Where are we with finding Clint?"

"We're still running the face trace, but he's disappeared. You know Clint. If he doesn't want to be found, you won't find him," she answered grimly.

"We'll find him, Tasha. And then I'm never letting him out of my sight," I promised.

"We got a hit," Agent Sitwell cried. "A sixty-seven percent match. Wait, cross-match, seventy-nine percent."

"Location?" Dad asked, all traces of fanboy gone, replaced by Agent Coulson.

"Stuttgard, Germany. 28 Konigstrasse. He's not exactly hiding," Sitwell said, surprised.

"Captain," Director Fury intoned, "you're up."

Steve looked surprised for a split second, before steely resolve took over. He nodded, heading out toward the locker rooms. As he passed by me, I reached out for his arm. When he stopped to look at me, I said, "Be careful. I don't want to have to patch you up again."

Steve smiled. "I'll do my best, Em. And we'll get Agent Barton back."

He and Tasha suited up, then flew out on a quinjet. Dad and I stayed on the bridge, where we could see what was happening. Or at least what the camera onboard the quinjet showed. We saw Steve jump out, without a parachute, just in time to save an elderly man from being blasted with Loki's spear. "You know, the last time I was in Germany, and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing."

"That's putting it mildly," I muttered, chewing my nails nervously.

Dad smiled and reached over, removing my nail from my mouth, all without taking his eyes off the screen. I figured the lure of watching his childhood idol in action was too much for him to take his eyes off of.

Steve fought Loki, and then Tony Stark showed up. Once Tony blasted Loki with his repulsors, Loki surrendered. "What? That's it?" Dad said, voicing my own thoughts.

"That was too easy," I added, suddenly very afraid.

Steve and Tony got Loki loaded onto the quinjet, and they started back to the helicarrier. Everything was fine, until it wasn't.

Suddenly, a huge storm came up, with lightening nearly striking the quinjet several times. The pilot, Agent Wilkins, had a hard time keeping it steady. There was a thump loud enough for us to hear back on the helicarrier, and then Tony decided to open the bay door. "Idiot," I muttered, as Conan walked up the ramp, punched Tony, knocking him onto Steve, and grabbed his brother. He then flew (yes, I did say flew) out the door, taking Loki with him.

Once Steve and Tony untangled themselves, Tony was the brilliant strategist and flew after them, not stopping for a second to plan their reaction. And then Steve jumped out after him, thankfully using a parachute this time.

"What's going on, Agent Romanoff?" Director Fury growled after a few minutes of radio silence.

"I think they just leveled a small forest, Sir," she answered back.

"They did what?" came from nearly every mouth in the room.

"It appears that Captain Rogers' shield can withstand Thor's hammer, and the resulting pitch sent a blast that leveled every tree around them for about a mile," she replied.

"Is he alright?" I asked anxiously. With Dad as my echo.

"They are all fine," Tasha said, sounding suspiciously like she was holding back a smile. "We're landing now to get them."

Thankfully, the rest of their flight went by just fine. Loki was escorted to the center of the helicarrier, where there there was a nice glass cage all ready for him. As he was being escorted there, I escorted Steve, along with Tasha and Conan, to the bridge. "I'm fine," Steve assured me, patiently enduring my check up.

"Well, at least we know you don't have a concussion," I said, turning off my flashlight. "I'm not so sure about the 'fine' part." I still wasn't terribly happy about the whole jumping out of airplanes thing he had going on. Then I turned to Thor. "Are you alright, Co- Thor?" Even though I managed to stop myself, Tasha still caught my slip and grinned.

"I, too, am alright, Lady. Are you a healer?" he asked curiously.

"Uh, yeah, only we call them doctors here," I replied.

"You seem very young. And strangely familiar," he commented, looking at me like he was trying to figure out how he knew me.

"Oh, I was in New Mexico," I told him. "I checked on you after you broke in to make sure you were okay. You were so focused on your thoughts that I didn't think you'd even seen me."

"You were with an archer. He wouldn't let you near me, in case I might hurt you," Thor remembered, in his deep, rumbly voice. I thought it was rather appropriate that he was the god of thunder, with his voice sounding like it.

"Yes, Clint was there. He's like a brother to me," I answered softly.

"Where is he now?"

"Loki turned him," Tasha answered shortly.

"I am deeply sorry," Thor told me. "I know what it is like to care for a brother and to lose him. I will do all I can to help you regain yours."

"Thank you," was all I could manage to get out. I really didn't want to cry in front of two perfect strangers, so I quickly excused myself.

I found ways to keep myself busy for the next few hours, mostly staring at the screens still running the face trace for Clint. I stayed there until Dad found me. "Stark requested your help, Dr. Coulson. Apparently, hacking into his personal IA means he trusts you."

"Or at least it means I won't just be in his way," I rebutted, heading to the lab where Dr. Banner was working with Tony.

To get there, the shortest way there was to pass through the detention center where Loki's cage was. He was facing the other way, and didn't move at all as I went through, so I thought I was home free. The guy gave me the creeps. But just as I got to the other side, he spoke. "You must be Emily. Yes, Barton told me all about you."

Rage overtook any common sense I might have possessed. "What have you done to him?" I screamed, whirling around to glare at him.

He merely grinned. "I've opened his mind. Just like I plan to do to all of you pathetic mortals."

"Where is he?"

"Somewhere safe, I assure you. But you'll see him soon. And then, I'll have him kill you. After all, that's his worst fear. Being the reason for the death of someone he holds dear. And your death would haunt him terribly, the younger sister he never had."

"And what of your family? Your brother, your mother and father? What of them?" I shot back.

"I have no father!" he roared at me.

I had him there. "But you do have a mother and brother. As much as you'd like everyone to think, you still care about them. And your brother is here, right now, trying to help you. Why can't you see that?"

"I am going to enjoy your death, little one," Loki said silkily. "Perhaps I will let you live for a while, just long enough to see your world crumble around you."

I couldn't take any more. I literally ran out of there, with Loki's mad laughter ringing in my ears. Having no idea where I was going, I simply ran. Until Tasha stopped me. "Kotenok, what's wrong?" she asked, sounding more worried than I'd ever heard her.

"Loki," was all I managed to get out, before sobs I didn't even know I'd been repressing forced their way up my throat.

Tasha wrapped me in her arms, shushing me as I shook. After five minutes or so of crying, I was able to tell her what had happened. And when I was done, the look on her face would have terrified me if it was actually aimed at me.

"Come on," she said, practically dragging me behind her onto the bridge. Our sudden arrival, and my appearance, caused a few eyebrows to raise, but no one said anything because Tasha was, well, Tasha. "I want to talk to Loki," she announced to Dad, Fury, and Thor. "I can make him talk."

She laid out her plan, and surprisingly, they agreed with her. Or really not all that surprisingly. She did have a way of making people agree with her. The plan was made, and only then did she leave my side. As she did, Dad took over. "What happened?" he asked quietly. When I didn't reply, he continued. "Did you talk to Loki?"

"How did you know that?"

"He's the only one on board this ship who would dare upset you," he answered. "What did he say?"

"Nothing worth repeating," I said firmly. "Let's just say he's sadistic and knows how to play people."

"Thankfully, Romanoff is better," Dad affirmed.

And she was. Tasha played the pitiful damsel in distress to a T, and Loki fell right into her trap. "You've brought the monster," he told her.

"So, Banner. That's your play," she said, turning around to face him, not a tear in her eye. Then she turned to leave, barking orders to keep Banner in the lab and send Thor there. He left immediately, with me on his heels. I wasn't sure what I could do to keep Dr. Banner from Hulking out, but I figured one more person couldn't hurt.

With my little legs, I made it there a few minutes behind Thor. Just in time to hear a huge argument breaking out. "I'm sorry, isn't everything about you?" Steve accused Tony.

"Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?" Fury asked Thor.

"Are you boys really that naive? SHIELD monitors potential threats," Tasha explained with a huff.

"Captain America's on threat watch?" Banner asked incredulously.

Everyone talked over each other, getting louder and louder, until Steve said, "Dr. Banner, put down the scepter."

Dr. Banner looked down confusedly, like he hadn't even realized he'd picked up Loki's scepter. Just then, a computer beeped, giving off the location of the Tesseract. "Sorry, kids, you don't get to see my party trick after all," he said lowly, walking to the computer.

The men argued again, almost drowning out Banner's "Oh my god." We had just enough time to look over at him in concern before the floor exploded from under us.

Tasha, Banner, and I were dropped to the level below. Tasha's leg was somehow pinned under rubble, and I tried to help free her as she reported in. "We're okay," she said into her comms. Then she looked over to Banner. "We're okay, right?"

Banner was gasping, groaning as he strained to stand up. "Doctor?" Tasha asked, while I merely made a small whimpering sound. "Bruce? You got to fight it. This is just what Loki wants. We're going to be okay. Listen to me."

"Are you okay?" Several crew members were running towards us, intent to help. But Tasha waved them off furiously. Then she looked at me. "Emily, go," she said, more serious than I'd ever seen her.

"No way," I replied, going back to tugging on her leg.

Tasha then turned back to Banner. "We're going to okay. All right? I swear on my life I will get you out of this. You will walk away and never-"

"Your life?" Banner interrupted. But it wasn't his normal voice. It was almost a roar. His skin had turned mostly green by this time, and he was trembling. He was shaking so badly that he fell off the air vent we had landed on. And then he was fully the Hulk.

At that point, we managed to get Tasha's leg out, and she pushed me in front of her. "Go, Emily!"

We both took off running, but she pushed me to the side just as we got to a stairwell. Somehow, I knew what she'd meant and held still. The Hulk rushed passed me, following her moving form.

The Hulk's roars faded as he chased my friend, but I knew there was nothing I could do. If I tried to help, I'd probably just end up getting either Tasha or me killed. Or possibly both. So I headed back towards MedBay, knowing that's where I would be needed next.

On my way towards MedBay, I passed through the detention center again. What I saw there froze my blood. "Daddy!" I cried, rushing towards my father, collapsed on the floor in front of Fury.

There was a jagged hole in his chest, like someone had punched through it. His eyes were closed, and he looked peaceful. "Daddy, no," I sobbed. "Wake up!"

"I don't think he's going to, Emily," Fury told me softly.

As more tears fell from my face, I straightened up. I checked for a pulse, but found none, unsurprisingly. I checked every pulse spot I'd learned in med school, just to be sure. "Time of death, 8:57 a.m.," I choked out. Kissing his cheek one last time, I turned away from my father.

**AN: I know, it's a terrible place to end it. But it had to be done. It really did. By now, I'm sure everyone knows the truth about Coulson, but it still had to be done. Anyway, I do plan on updating Tuesday, Wednesday at the latest for this week, so you won't have long to wait. Thanks for all the reviews/favorites/follows. I especially love all those that make sure I know what happens next in the MCU. Those ones make me smile!**


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: I don't own the Avengers. But if I did, that would mean I was Stan Lee, which would be awesome.**

Chapter 18

As I turned to continue on my way to MedBay, Fury stopped me. "Agent Romanoff stopped Agent Barton, Dr. Coulson. I believe they are in the infirmary and could probably use your medical attention. Both of them."

I nodded to show I'd heard and continued onto MedBay, to Clint's usual room in the infirmary. I got there in time to hear Tasha say, "I've been compromised. I've got red in my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out."

"You've wiped it out a long time ago," I told her, immediately bringing my flashlight out to check Clint's pupils. From the looks of the goose egg on the back of his head, it would be highly unlikely that he wouldn't have a concussion. But his pupils were the same size, dilating nicely. "You have an incredibly thick skull," I muttered. "What happened to you?"

"Cognitive recalibration," he grinned.

At my confused look, Tasha clarified. "I hit him in the head. Really hard."

"Tasha hit you, and you don't have a concussion? You have a harder head than I thought," I said, completely in awe.

"What happened to you?" Tasha asked me suddenly, probably noticing my fresh red eyes.

I just shook my head. "Let me get through cleaning you guys up first," I said, still cleaning the shallow cut on Clint's head.

After five minutes of cleaning each and every single scrape on both of them, I couldn't put it off any longer. Clint grabbed my hand, making me look at him. "What happened, Em?"

"Dad's dead," I sobbed, breaking down completely.

The two people I considered family instantly were surrounding me, holding me as I cried. I knew they both had to be grieving, but they still put me ahead of their own needs. And for that, I was selfishly grateful.

After a few moments, I was able to compose myself. I went into the bathroom to wash my face, washing the sweat and grime and tears that had accumulated over the past day. Clint followed me to do the same. As I was patting my face dry with a towel, I heard Steve's voice. "Time to go."

"Go where?" Tasha asked him.

"I'll tell you on the way. Can you fly one of those jets?" he asked in return.

Clint answered instead as we both came out of the bathroom. "I can."

Steve looked at me, then Tasha for confirmation. As we both nodded, he accepted our judgement. "You got a suit?" he asked Clint.

"Yeah," Clint affirmed.

"Then suit up."

Steve turned to leave, but I stopped him. "I'm coming with you."

A resounding "No, you're not," came from all three, or at least variants on that theme.

"Loki killed my father. You better believe I'm going to help stop him," I said, stubborn grief pushing me to do this.

Steve stepped forward, putting his hands on my shoulders. "Emily, you can fight, I've seen it. I've even had a few bruises from it. But you've never been in a real fight. It's always been training. You're not a soldier, not a spy. You're a doctor. And you are not thinking straight right now. I don't want to see you get hurt. Please stay here."

My stubbornness made me wait for a moment before capitulating. "Fine. But I swear, if all three of you don't come back, I will bring you back and kill you again." Then I pushed past him.

I found Dr. Beckenbauer and asked him to put me to work. Thankfully, there weren't too many casualties, and most injuries that were left were minor. I mechanically worked, wrapping burns, setting breaks, stitching cuts, anything to keep my mind off everything.

Looking around, I realized there were no more patients left. "Emily, fraulein, go get some sleep," Dr. Beckenbauer told me gently. "You need it."

I nodded, but I had no intention of following through with it. Instead, I headed toward the bridge. My friends had had enough time to make it to wherever they were going, so I figured it was safe to go find out what was happening.

Director Fury was at his normal position at the top of the bridge, looking very much like a high-tech pirate overseeing his crew. "Dr. Coulson," he said in acknowledgement, without even turning.

"Director," I replied, feeling almost like a kid being sent to the principal's office. And that had happened to me often enough that I knew very well how that felt.

"I'm not even going to ask if you knew about Rogers, Romanoff, and Barton leaving, because I know you did."

"Yes, sir, I did," I told him, feeling a bit defiant.

The next words out of his mouth shocked me. "Good. They did the right thing."

"What- I- Yes, sir, I believe they did."

"We are slowly making our way back to New York, where I believe they were also heading. Once this is all over, I'm sure they will need medical attention, and I doubt most of them will be very accepting of it. I would like you to see to them, if you would."

Director Fury was requesting something, not just giving orders? What was happening here? "Um, of course, sir. When do we expect to be back in the city?"

"Not soon enough, I'm afraid," he sighed. "Not soon enough to help."

I stayed on the bridge, where we somehow had a visual on what was going on in the city. Aliens riding some sort of flying chariots came pouring from a hole in the sky. Tony managed to get quite a few, but there were too many for just him, and the others weren't there yet.

The aliens that passed him began to immediately terrorize the city, shooting blue laser-like rays at random. They chased Tony all over the city, until finally, Steve, Tasha, and Clint showed up and took out those on his tail. They shot several down, before getting to Stark Tower, where the Tesseract was opening the portal. And then Loki shot them down.

I held my breath as the quinjet holding the three people I cared about most careened downward. Thankfully, Clint was the best pilot SHIELD had, so he was able to control the descent, letting the three of them exit safely.

The next hour or so was a blur of watching my friends risk their lives. And not being able to do anything but watch alongside the others on the helicarrier. We cheered when Dr. Banner showed up, Hulking out and throwing aliens like rag dolls. Our heroes were amazing, taking out aliens right and left. But more kept coming. Tasha caught a ride on one of the chariot things, making her way to the top of Stark Tower. But for some reason, she hesitated to close the portal once she had Loki's staff.

"What is she waiting for?" someone nearby asked in derision.

"I'm sure Agent Romanoff has a good reason," Maria said, joining with me in glaring at the agent in question. He quailed under our combined efforts.

Suddenly, Tony appeared again, this time guiding a missile toward the gaping hole in the sky. "And that's why she didn't close it, you idiot," I said viciously.

Waiting with my heart in my throat, I watched with the others as Tony disappeared into the portal. "Come on, you big idiot," I whispered, willing Tony to make it work.

And it did. Suddenly, all the aliens crumpled onto the ground, like puppets whose strings had been cut. Everyone cheered, except me. "Come on, Tony. Get out of there."

With each eye on a different screen, I waited, watching Tasha still hesitating to close the portal, waiting for Tony. Finally, when he didn't show, she closed it, keeping us safe from anything else that might try to come through. I saw the grief on her face as she did so, and I choked back another sob.

"There he is!" someone yelled, pointing to the screen. They were right, Tony's suit was falling through the air.

"That's not flying, that's falling!" I gasped. "He's not in control!"

I watched, eyes mostly scrunched shut, but still barely open. I didn't want to see Tony hit the ground, but I couldn't help but watch in case something changed. The change came in the form of the Hulk, jumping up to catch Tony, then flinging him onto the ground. The cheers that exploded on the bridge were almost deafening.

"He made it, lucky sucker," Maria breathed.

"They all did," I added.

…

An hour later, we were finally back in New York, but I still hadn't heard anything from my friends. Calling Clint for the fourth time, I finally got through. "Hey, Em," he said tiredly.

"Hey, Em?!" I squawked. "I've been trying to get a hold of you guys for an hour, and all I get is 'Hey, Em'?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess I had my phone on silent," he said lamely.

"I don't care. You will bring everyone back to the helicarrier right now so I can treat you all. And so help me, if you don't, I'll make sure you have front desk duty for a month," I promised.

"You can't do that. You don't have the authority," Clint protested, but I could tell he was scared.

"I'm standing right next to Director Fury, who just nodded in agreement with me, so yes, I can. You have half an hour to get everyone here."

I then hung up on him, turning to Fury. "Thank you, sir. I doubt Clint would have been so agreeable without that threat."

"Oh, I doubt that, Dr. Coulson. You can be rather intimidating when you want to be," he said, with the tiniest bit of a smile on his face.

Back in MedBay, I paced restlessly, waiting for them to get back. Exactly twenty-eight minutes later, Clint pushed the others into the main area. I smiled, probably a bit viciously, then nodded at the two guards who had been waiting with me. They immediately left the room, shutting and locking the doors behind them.

"You can't do that!" Tony yelled. "That's illegal, that's kidnapping!"

"Watch me," I said calmly, looking all of them over. The six of them all were filthy, but Banner and Thor seemed the least injured, with Tony being the most. "Sit," I told him.

"No way I'm letting a scrawny little thing like you look me over," he retorted. "You probably got your degree from a Fisher Price kit."

"Anthony Edward Stark, in the last forty-eight hours, my brother was kidnapped, brainwashed, and forced to fight against us, I don't blame you for that, Clint. I was almost Hulk-smashed, I don't blame you for that, either, Dr. Banner. I had to stay here and watch while the three people I care about most in this world went and fought aliens, I do blame the three of you for that, though. And most importantly, I had to call my own father's time of death. So you will sit down, shut up, and let me treat you, or I will pump you so full of tranquilizers you won't even know what month it is when you wake up. Do I make myself clear?" I asked, glaring at him.

"Are you sure you're adopted?" he muttered, but did as I said, anyway.

After I had treated his various cuts, three cracked ribs, and whiplash, I made him stay on that bed. I moved onto Clint, worried about the multiple blows to the head he'd received. "So what took you guys so long to get back here?" I asked, once again checking his pupils.

"We were at that schwarma place," he replied nonchalantly.

"You were getting schwarma? While I was worried sick about you guys?" I screeched.

"We got you some," Steve said quickly, holding up a bag.

"You all make me sick. Who can think of schwarma at a time like this?" I muttered, going back to my patient.

Everyone else pointed at Tony. "What?" he said in response to my glare. "We needed to refuel. I, for one, am a fine-tuned race car."

We all ignored that comment. And the various others he continued to mutter. As I swiped antiseptic over a cut on Clint's brow, he winced and pulled away. "My threat still holds, Clint," I told him. He miraculously held perfectly still after that.

Tasha's turn was next, though she didn't look too happy. She didn't have anything worse than a sprained ankle and some cuts that needed stitching, though she continuously threw out swears in Russian. "Hold still, Natasha. And quit swearing at me. I know exactly what you're saying, or did you forget who taught me Russian? Besides, we both know you like me too much to actually follow through with any of those threats."

She mock-glared at me, which looked remarkably like her real glare, to anyone uninitiated. But she held still and held her tongue for the rest of her treatments.

Steve was next, but it only took a few minutes. His shallower cuts and scrapes were nearly gone, and even the blast he'd gotten on his side was healing before my eyes. "Must be nice to have super healing," I muttered. He merely grinned tiredly back.

I then turned to the last two members. They didn't really look hurt, just tired. "Dr. Banner, do you have any injuries I can't see?" I asked him, very curious as to how the whole Hulk thing worked.

"No, the Other Guy takes care of any injury I might get in this form, and he's pretty indestructible," he said softly.

"Well, that's nice of him," I replied, and got a soft smile in return. "And Co- Thor, how about you?"

"No, Lady Emily, I'm quite alright," he told me. "What little hurts I've sustained will surely be gone by morning."

"I guess you're all free to go, then," I said, waving the guards off the door. Tony was the first out the door, somehow moving quickly despite those ribs. He pulled Banner with him, not giving the poor man a choice.

Thor was next. I suspected he was planning on visiting his brother. Steve, Clint, and Tasha stayed, making sure I ate what they'd brought me. "You haven't eaten anything since that bagel yesterday morning, have you?" Steve asked me.

"I've had coffee," I said, smiling innocently.

"Eat," the three of them said in unison.

Eating in the MedBay probably wasn't the most hygienic thing I'd done all day, but I didn't really care. I ate until they were satisfied, but I didn't really taste it. "We're planning on sending Loki and Thor back with the Tesseract sometime tomorrow afternoon. We'll see you then, Em," Tasha told me.

"Yeah, I'm just going to go find Dad-" I cut myself off, remembering what I'd purposefully blocked out all day. It came crashing back down on me, along with the exhaustion and terror of the past two days.

The others spoke, but I couldn't have told you what was said. My head was suddenly pounding, and my vision blurred until I saw double. Arms wrapped around me, hugging me, but I hardly felt it.

Somehow, I found myself being steered through the hallways. Steve's arm was over my shoulders, keeping me safe. I heard more voices, but couldn't identify any of them. We stopped for a moment, before continuing on. A breeze blew across my face. I blinked, and found myself on the top floor of SHIELD's parking garage.

Steve led me over to his motorcycle, handing me the helmet. When I just stared at it in my hands, he took it back and gently put it on my head. Then, he climbed onto his bike, pulling me on behind him. He wrapped my arms around his waist, then said, "Don't let go, Emily. Do you hear me?"

I nodded woodenly, and he was satisfied. He drove us through the city, while I simply closed my eyes and tried not to feel anything. I wasn't really aware of anything around me as he parked in his garage and pulled me off the bike after him. He guided me to the elevator, then to his apartment, and I followed without a thought.

Once behind closed doors, Steve took the helmet off my head, letting it drop carelessly to the floor. "I am so sorry, Emily," he whispered, hands on my shoulders.

That broke the dam holding my emotions back. For the third time in two days, I broke down in rasping sobs. Steve's arms came around me, holding me tightly. If not for him, I would have dropped to the floor, not caring what happened to me. As it was, after a few minutes, Steve swept me and carried me to the couch, where he continued to hold me.

I was never sure how long we stayed like that, me curled up on Steve's lap, sobbing, his arms around me. He simply held me, smoothing my hair back, whispering soothing words to me. Eventually, however, I fell asleep, but never for very long. Flashes of the past few days wound through my dreams, mixing with memories of Dad, causing me to wake and start the whole process over again. But every time I woke, Steve was there, still holding me, still just being there for me.

I did manage to fall into a deep sleep, finally not being plagued by nightmares and memories. When I came back to the land of the living, it was to find myself curled up on Steve's couch, a blanket over me, and Achilles in my arms. He nudged me gently with his nose and whined, letting me know he was there for me.

As much as I loved my dog, there was someone I wanted with me more. I sat up, looking over the back of the couch, and saw Steve in the kitchen. "Morning, Sunshine," he said with a soft smile, bringing me a steaming mug.

As I sipped it, my eyes widened. "Yes, that's hot chocolate," Steve laughed softly. "I know how much you love it, even more than coffee."

"Did you get any sleep?" I asked him, enjoying my drink probably more than was reasonable, partly because he'd made it specifically for me.

"Yeah, I did. I only got up about an hour or so ago, when Natasha brought Achilles and a bag for you."

"Tasha came?" I knew she cared about me, but I'd figured she would be more concerned with Clint, helping him through all the crap that would come with being mind-controlled by a megalomaniacal god.

"She and Barton. They wanted to see you, but I thought it was best to let you sleep, since you'd had such a hard time falling asleep," Steve told me, slightly hesitantly. "And we'll see them in a little bit, anyway."

"To send Thor and Loki back," I remembered.

"You don't have to go, if you don't want to," he said quickly.

"I need to," I replied firmly. "I need to see him leave."

Steve flashed me an understanding look. "I was just about to make something to eat. Do you want anything?"

I shook my head, but he wasn't having any of it. "I'm making breakfast, and you're going to eat. You need to keep your strength up and in the past three days, you've eaten enough food for one of them. Maybe. You are going to eat."

When Captain America points a set of kitchen tongs at you and tells you to do something, it's a bit hard to argue with him. Still, I hardly felt like eating. I did manage to choke down what normally would have been a lovely omelette. Or at least half of it. When Steve wasn't looking, I fed most of it to Achilles. Somehow, I think Steve still knew.

"That bag Natasha brought over is in my bathroom, as well as an extra towel for you. Why don't you go take a shower, and I'll clean up here," he told me, taking the plates from me.

"Are you trying to tell me I smell, Captain Rogers?" I joked, still trying to keep my mind off any painful topic.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm trying to tell you," Steve replied sarcastically.

I gasped theatrically. "I do believe I'm rubbing off on you. Sarcasm is not a natural state for you."

He shook his head. "Go," he said, pointing to the bathroom. "We should be leaving in about an hour."

I made my way slowly to the shower, dreading being alone. But I could hardly ask Steve to keep me company. Even if it was something I was comfortable with, which it wasn't, he would have died of mortification if I even suggested it. "Come on, Achilles," I said, calling my puppy. "Come with me."

He happily complied, running as quickly as his little legs would allow. Shutting the bedroom door behind us, then the bathroom door, I turned the shower on, the hottest it would go. I stripped my clothes off, throwing each article in the garbage as I did so. Even if they had been salvageable, I wouldn't have wanted to ever wear them again.

I slipped into the shower, after grabbing everything I needed from the bag Tasha had packed for me. The water was shocking, running over my head. And then I couldn't hold it back anymore. I'd been so strong, keeping back the tears in front of Steve since I'd been up, knowing he'd seen enough to last a long time. But here, all alone, I couldn't stop myself. "Daddy," I whispered, tears mixing with the water from the shower.

I stayed like that, letting the water wash my tears away, until the water started cooling. Quickly, I washed my hair several times, then ran my loofa over my body multiple times, as well, trying to get all the grime from the explosion off. And any traces of blood that may have been left.

Eventually, I stepped out, Achilles bumping me as I did so. He whined, trying to comfort me the way all dogs seemed to know instinctively. After wrapping a towel around me, I picked him up and buried my face in his soft fur. He yipped, then licked a stray tear from my cheek. "Thanks, buddy," I whispered, hugging him gently before setting him down.

I got dressed, then dried my hair. I couldn't be bothered to really do my hair after that, so I simply braided it down my back. After brushing my teeth (several times) and dabbing makeup at my face, I felt somewhat ready to face the world. Or at least Steve.

Steve looked up as I came out of the bedroom, immediately standing up from the couch. He crossed the room and took my shoulders in his hands, just like he'd done the night before. "I don't ever want you to feel like you have to hide your tears from me," he said, startling me. My surprise must have shown on his face, since he added, "I could hear you sobbing. If you want to be alone, that's fine, but don't ever think you have to hide that from me. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You were there for me at the hardest time in my life, and I am going to be here for you. Just don't hide from me."

His words ripped yet another sob from me, followed by a fresh torrent of tears. He held me again, softly shushing me. He never told me I'd be fine, or that it would all be okay. He simply told me that he was there, right there for me.

Finally, the fountain died down, and I gently disentangled myself from him. "Don't we have someplace to be in a little bit?"

"Only if you're up to it. Otherwise, I'm sure the others wouldn't mind waiting for a little while," he responded.

"Let's do this," I said, grabbing the leather jacket Tasha had packed for me.

"Then, after you, milady," he smiled, gesturing for me to leave first.

"Be good, Achilles. We'll be back soon," I told my dog, and he yipped in reply, like he knew exactly what I'd told him. "I have the smartest doggy," I added, giving him a kiss.

Steve and I headed back toward the garage and climbed on his bike again. The ride to Central Park was a bit shorter than I'd figured, but then again, a motorcycle can get into places a car can't. Once there, SHIELD agents let us into the area sectioned off for the sendoff. Well, one tried to stop me, but Steve just glared at him and I was magically waved through.

We met Clint, Tasha, Tony, and Banner. I was greeted with a sympathetic hug from the first two, and a kind handshake from the others. Steve got a few back slaps and a nod from Tasha. "Did you two plan coordinating outfits?" Tony suddenly asked Tasha and me.

I looked over at what she was wearing, and smiled. It was rather similar to what I was wearing: jeans, a t-shirt, and a light brown leather jacket. "You can't blame me, this time. You packed that bag for me," I told her.

"This time," she said, a tiny smile ghosting across her face.

"You mean you dress like twins often?" Tony interjected again.

"Sadly, yes. But that's what happens when she's the one who taught me style," I defended.

Tony's smart response was cut off as Steve suddenly stood up straighter and glared a bit. We all looked and saw Thor and Loki, accompanied by several SHIELD agents. A fierce sort of satisfaction bloomed in my chest as I saw the muzzle on Loki's face, along with the chains on his hands.

Goodbyes were said to Thor all around, with all of us studiously ignoring his brother. "I am truly sorry for your loss, Lady Emily," Thor told me. "And I am sorry that it happened at the hands of my brother."

"You can't be held responsible for his actions, not any more than I would be for this guy," I told him, nudging Clint's arm.

Thor's face relaxed a tiny bit as I said that. "I hope to see you all soon," he told us, then walked back to Loki. Banner handed him the case the Tesseract was currently residing in, then Loki was forced to take the other end. "Fare thee well," Thor said, then he twisted his end of the case, and they were gone.

I let out a breath I hadn't even realized I was holding. My father's murderer was off our planet, where he could no longer do damage, and he would be facing justice where he was going. Thor's assurances eased the ache in my heart just a tiny bit.

The rest of us looked at each other in relief. "Well, Fury informed me that there's going to be a service tomorrow for your… for those who were lost, so I guess we'll see you then," Tony said, before he and Banner climbed into his flashy sports car and drove off.

"Let us know if you need anything, kotenok," Tasha told me, hugging me briefly. Clint followed, his a bit longer, before they drove off, as well.

"Where to, Em?" Steve asked, arm around me as we walked back to his bike.

"Back to your place. I just want to hang with my two favorite guys and watch crappy movies," I told him, referring to him and my dog.

"Your wish is my command," he told me, before kicking up the stand and taking off.

**AN: Here you all go, just as promised. Barely :D But it was the longest chapter yet, at 15 pages in Word. Sadly, there will only be one, maybe two more chapters of Daddy's Little Girl, but don't worry. Emily's story has just begun. There will be a sequel, All Grown Up. It starts at the beginning of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. And I'm still working on those one-shots. One will be about how she and Coulson met and became a family, and another about how she and Tasha ended up liking each other. That will be fun! Anyway, as per usual, thanks so much to all who've reviewed/favorited/followed. Oh, and props to those who catch the vague Disney references!**


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: I don't own Marvel. I do own some merch, though. Does that count?**

Chapter 19

Back at Steve's apartment, my phone beeped, alerting me to the fact that I had several missed texts and calls. Delia called and texted me multiple times, Ava had sent a few worried texts, and even Drake had sent one or two. But the person I was really looking for didn't even try to contact me. "He probably doesn't know yet," Steve consoled, reading my thoughts as usual.

"Yeah, Carter's supposed to be in Uruguay or some place anyway. He probably isn't even near a T.V. anyway," I agreed.

Sending my three training buddies a quick text saying I was fine was harder than I thought. Delia's four texts and three voicemails almost made me cry all over again. But at the same time, a tiny part of my heart was warmed knowing that they cared about me. "We'll see you at the memorial service tomorrow," she promised in the last one.

The last message on my phone was a mass text to all SHIELD personnel from Director Fury himself. "All agents and medical staff are required to come in until further notice," I read out loud, then grabbed my purse.

"Hold your horses, doll," Steve stopped me. "You didn't finished the message. 'Unless suffering from a personal loss'. You are not going anywhere tonight."

He overrode my objections, going so far as ordering Achilles to stand between me and the door. Not that it would have done any good if I'd really tried to leave, but it did make me smile. And I was pretty sure that was his goal, anyway.

We ended up getting Indian food and watching really cheesy 80's movies. Once again, I fell asleep on the couch, wrapped in Steve's arms.

That next morning was one of the hardest in my life. Steve woke me up with another cup of hot cocoa, then directed me to his bathroom. I cried again in the shower, but this time, it was more of a gentle release, instead of the gushing torrent it had been the day before. Once out, I slipped one of Steve's shirts on to dry my hair. As I carefully curled my hair, I smiled at the memory of Dad determinedly brushing it out for me when I'd had pneumonia at twelve. He had spent over half an hour brushing it for me, making sure each and every tangle was out. Afterwards, it had smoothed into perfect ringlets that had fascinated him. After that, he'd made sure that I knew the curls were his favorite. Every time I'd had my hair curly, he would compliment me. He always made sure I knew he thought I was pretty, but the curls were his favorite. He was the main reason I'd left my hair so long.

My hair now curled to perfection, I moved on to my makeup. I made sure every lash was in place, my smoky-eyed shadow fading flawlessly, eyeliner impeccably cat-eyed. My lips were done in my best shade, and just a dusting of blush on cheeks finished it off. Then came the dress. Tasha had packed my black lace sheath dress, knowing me so well. I slipped into it, knowing I'd never be able to wear it again. Next came the black pumps, and then the pearls.

I cried a bit when I saw them, the set that had been my grandmother's. I'd never met her, but my dad told me I was just like her when he gave me the set, for my eighteenth birthday. I managed the earrings and the bracelet, but my hands were shaking too badly when it came time for the necklace. Trying and failing three times, Steve's knock at the door came just in time.

I let him in, then handed him the necklace wordlessly. He gently took my shoulders in his hands, turning me around, then slipped the strand around my neck. There was no way I could keep the tears back then. But, as he'd done every other time I had cried, Steve simply pulled me into his arms until my shuddering had stopped. "I'm here," he whispered, over and over, letting me know I was not going to be alone.

When that cry session was finally over, I stepped back and wiped my eyes gently. "How do you do that?" he asked me in awe.

"How do I do what?" I had no idea what he was talking about.

"How does your makeup look perfect still?"

"That's the beauty of waterproof makeup," I informed him. "I can cry all I want, and this stuff won't budge. Of course, it's a pain in the butt to get off, but it's a price I'm willing to pay."

"Well, you look beautiful, anyway. I'm sure he can see you, and he's loving those curls," Steve assured me with a soft smile.

I smiled back, not really able to speak after that. Then I turned back to the mirror, slipped the matching combs in my hair, and fluffed my curls one last time. Taking a deep breath, I said, "Well, this is it. How do I look?"

Thankfully, Steve took the question seriously, not immediately answering in the affirmative like most men would, just to get it over with. After a visual perusal that might have raised a slight blush in my cheeks, he finally answered. "You are stunning. Absolutely stunning."

Then, I really blushed. But, trying to play it off, I teased him. "You don't look half bad yourself, Captain Rogers." And that was an understatement. I was reminded once again of just how attractive my best friend was, standing in front of me in a crisp black suit, white shirt, and dark blue tie. A tie that was adorably skewed. "Let me fix that," I said, reaching for the offending article.

I took a moment to fix his tie, probably longer than I really needed to. Steve noticed, placing his hands over mine. "It's time to go, Em," he told me softly. "There's a car waiting for us downstairs."

Inhaling deeply again, I nodded. He smiled and hugged me again for a moment, before pulling back and holding his arm out for me. "I'll be right there beside you the whole time," he promised.

Steve led me out to the car waiting for us. The driver surprised me as he got out and held the door for us. "Thanks, Grant," I told him softly.

"I am so sorry, Emily. If there's anything I can do, please let me know," he said, gripping my arm gently for a moment.

I gave him a watery smile before sliding in. The drive to headquarters was quiet, with Steve holding my hand the entire time. It was a very good thing he was so strong, since I was gripping his hand so hard I might have broken something if it had been someone else.

It seemed like everyone in the building held their breath as we walked in. Director Fury immediately walked over to us, ignoring the awkwardness swirling around. "Dr. Coulson, Captain Rogers, there's a place for you right over here."

Fury led the way, parting the crowd like a very angry Moses. I smiled briefly at the thought, before seeing the stage area. There were four coffins and seven urns. As I saw the picture behind the first urn, my legs forgot how to work for a moment. There was my dad, his SHIELD ID picture on display over an American flag.

You can do this, I told myself sternly, commanding my legs to continue to walk. Fury led us to the front row of seats, where Clint and Tasha were already sitting with Tony, Pepper, and Banner. They all gave me hugs, except for Banner, and Tony even surprised me. "The cellist should be here any minute. Happy's bringing her from the airport."

Tears stung my eyes again at his thoughtfulness. "Thanks, Tony," was all I managed to get out, but he understood.

I settled into my seat, but people kept coming up to me to offer their condolences. Maria and Melinda came first. Maria's eyes were tinged red, but otherwise she was composed. Melinda, however, looked like normal. At least, until she hugged me of her own accord. "We've always got your back," she whispered in my ear. "You're not alone."

Her words triggered the next tears. Actually, at that point, I felt like it was just a continuous stream, slow but steady. After another hug from each woman, they left, only to be replaced by Ava, Delia, and Drake. They hugged me, and Delia cried on me, before telling me if I needed anything, they would be there.

More people stopped by me, some I knew, some I didn't. But five minutes later, I didn't think I could handle another stranger touching me, letting me know how much my dad would be missed. Didn't they think I knew that?

Steve and Tasha picked up on my mood. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. She glared at anyone who looked like they might approach me. It worked, until Fury came back.

"Dr. Coulson, did you want to say a few words at the end?" he asked, looking more worn and tired than I'd ever seen him.

I shook my head quickly, but then changed my mind. "Yes, I would. Thank you, Director."

"I'll let you know when it's your turn, then."

As the Director left, another person was led to the front. "Emily?" her voice quavered.

"Audrey," I sighed, getting up to hug her.

"He's really gone, isn't he?" she asked, tears streaming down her face. At my nod, she closed her eyes. "The last time we spoke, I told him I couldn't handle the strain of long distance. He thought I didn't care about him."

"He knew. My dad knew people better than they knew themselves," I assured her. "He knew how you feel."

Pepper came over then and guided Audrey to the seat next to hers. The two women spoke quietly to each other for a moment, before Pepper put her arm around Audrey. I noticed, however, that she still didn't let go of Tony's hand.

A hush went through the crowd, bringing the already quiet room to near silence. I looked to the front, where Fury was standing. He spoke some, then Maria did, lauding the bravery of those fallen. A few others spoke about each person who'd died. Then Fury nodded at me.

I took a deep breath as Steve squeezed my shoulders and Tasha my hand. The walk to the front seemed to stretch forever, but I finally made it. "Most of you knew Agent Phil Coulson, whether personally or by reputation. You knew him as the man who would get the job done, whether it was babysitting Iron Man," here I sent a quick smile to Tony, who rolled his eyes in response, "or taking out armed robbers with only a sack of flour. But what you probably didn't know was the man behind the agent. He loved The Beatles, and Thai food. It took him three hours to learn how to simply make a call on his new smartphone. He couldn't cook to save his life, something he passed on to me. And even though he saw the most horrible ugliness this world can hold because of his job, he still managed to see the good in those around him. He saw the hero inside of an angry, self-absorbed billionaire. He saw the potential in an Army sniper who'd made mistakes, and instead of taking him out like he was ordered to, my dad brought him in and turned him into one of the best agents SHIELD has ever seen. And then he backed up that agent when he did the same thing, bringing in a KGB assassin instead of taking her out. And he saw the possibility inside of a little ten-year-old girl trying to pick his pockets. Instead of turning her into the police, he took her in and adopted her."

Tears were flowing down my cheeks, completely blurring everyone's face. But I had to go on. "Most of you know that my dad's hero was Captain America. The excitement and happiness I saw on Dad's face when we found Captain Rogers was only rivalled by the day that I officially became a Coulson. He spent most of his life trying to emulate his hero. He didn't realize that as he did so, he was becoming everyone else's hero."

I took a deep breath, then turned to his picture. "We'll miss you, Daddy."

…

The rest of the ceremony blurred by. At some point, I was presented with the flag that was draped under Dad's picture. Some more words were said, though I didn't really listen to them. And then everyone was standing up, talking to each other.

The Avengers were a very subdued group. No one wanted to be the first to say anything. Except for Tony, of course, who couldn't stand silence. "Once the Tower's rebuilt, Pepper decided that everyone should have a place there. It would kinda make things easier, you know, if we ever have to do this whole save the world thing again."

Everyone was flabbergasted, especially Pepper. "Who's idea was it?" she muttered.

"That includes you, Princess," Tony told me, ignoring his girlfriend. "Pepper thought you probably wouldn't want to stay where you are, now that, well, you know. So give us two weeks, three tops, then everyone can move in. It'll be like college all over again."

I stared at him, completely in awe of his offer. "You know, for someone who claims to not have a heart, you sure do nice things for people," Steve said, trying to hold in a smile.

"It was Pepper's idea," Tony stated, once again ignoring her huff. "But seriously, there will be three floors of empty spaces otherwise. I don't want to see it wasted." And then he walked off, pulling Pepper with him.

"Is Stark trying to make friends?" Tasha asked quizzically.

"I think so," Banner answered. "He just has a weird way of doing it."

We talked for a few more minutes, not wanting to leave each other. But Director Fury had other ideas. "Can I speak with you a moment, Dr. Coulson?"

Though it was phrased as a request, I felt like it was more of an order. So I was surprised when he opened his mouth and asked, "How are you holding up?"

I tried not to gape, but I wasn't successful. "Uh, I'm- I'm okay, sir. As well as can be expected, I suppose."

"It will get better in time," he promised. "Before this all happened, your father was planning on taking a vacation, just the two of you. He had it all planned out. A trip to Tahiti for two weeks. I want you to go on it still."

I gaped some more. "Tahiti?" That did not sound like my dad at all.

"He wanted to spend some time with you, and he figured that the best way would be to be away from everything. We have a facility down there, and he had some vacation time coming. Actually, almost all of it. So I think you should go. Just lie on a beach for two weeks and not think about anything."

"Wow. That's- Thank you, sir. That's incredible. Thank you," I gushed.

"Don't thank me just yet. I have ulterior motives for this," he said, with just a hint of a smirk.

Of course, you do, I thought to myself. Aloud, I said, "And they are?"

"I want you to be the Avengers' doctor. And before you object, saying there's more qualified people, I saw the way you handled treating them all the other day. You knew exactly how to handle each one, even Stark. I've never seen someone shut him up like that, other than your dad. You're more like him than you realize. And he would be so proud of you."

I sniffed, then nodded. "Of course, Director. I would be delighted."

"Don't say that just yet," he said, full-blown smirking. "But welcome to Level Seven Clearance, Dr. Coulson. And good luck. You're going to need it."

**AN: And that's all, folks! I want to thank you all for reading this, and I promise, there will be a sequel, as well as various one-shots. The sequel will be titled "All Grown Up", and I'm going to try to have the first chapter out by this weekend. It might be a bit slower updating because I'm not entirely sure of the whole plot just yet. But it's going to start just before The Winter Soldier and go from there. I have been thinking about putting Spiderman in, mostly because I love Andrew Garfield's portrayal. Let me know what you think!**

**Also, I hope everyone caught the references to Agents of SHIELD at the end. If you haven't seen the pilot, watch it and then read this chapter again. And that's all I'm going to say about Coulson :D**

**I want to thank you all for reading this and staying with me to the end. A big shout out to all those who reviewed/favorited/followed. You seriously make me want to write more. Thanks for everything!**


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